


His Boys

by pissedoffeskimo



Category: Original Work
Genre: Drug Use, Kidnapping, M/M, Manipulation, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 09:43:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 95,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2647325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pissedoffeskimo/pseuds/pissedoffeskimo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitch knew better then to talk to strangers, let alone accept drinks from them, but this wasn't a stranger, it was Richard Carter - the famous, gorgeous, action movie star - and he was smiling down at him with those beautiful blue eyes and a cocky grin and, really, one drink couldn't hurt anything, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in 2006. I'll be posting it as I edit. The biggest change to the original will be that I'm moving location from England to America for consistency issues, among other things. Otherwise, I'm trying to stick to minor edits. It's hard, so bear with me.
> 
> Please take all warnings seriously. Please. This is a disturbing story. It's graphic and violent and wrong in so, so many ways and it doesn't end well, because these things rarely do.
> 
> All of that aside, this was a labor of love that I truly enjoyed writing and if you decide to continue reading, I hope you love it as much as I do.
> 
>  

“Oh, god, I am so sorry!” Mitch blushed and tried to wipe what was left of his drink off the person he’d just run into. He was so stupid! The floor tilted under his feet. Strike that, he was so _drunk_. “I can not believe I just did that.”

The man in front of him looked up from his white shirt, now splattered liberally in strawberry daiquiri and raised a dark eyebrow. “You don’t look so good.”

Mitch lifted his pale, hazel eyes to meet the gaze and for a moment he saw double, “I don’t _feel_ so goooo... oh, fuck.” His vision sharpened onto the tan face in front of him and his jaw nearly dropped to the floor. “You’re Richard Carter!”

Richard smiled slyly and put a hand on Mitch’s shoulder and Mitch nearly toppled over as his knees went weak. Richard Carter, the action movie star, was in a gay bar and he was smiling at Mitch. Could anyone really get that lucky? Richard leaned down, practically putting his forehead against Mitch’s. “Shh, I’m laying low.”

Mitch nodded dumbly. Up close, Richard was so... tall, and handsome. He’d always played the rouge sort of hero on the screen, all scruffy with dirt marring his chiseled features. In person he was... well, he was gorgeous. At over six feet tall, he towered over Mitch’s five foot five. His black hair was slicked back and his shirt fell open to just bellow his chest, revealing a sinful amount smooth skin. Not to mention those tight, leather pants. It should be illegal to wear something like that in public.

Checking himself for drool, Mitch smiled up at the actor, hoping that he wasn’t making too large a fool of himself. “I really am sorry.”

Richard chuckled with a deep reverberating tone. “Not to worry, I’ve got five more just like this one. You, however, are very drunk.”

Mitch couldn’t help that his smile went from winning to sloppy. He was indeed very drunk and as he’d never been so before, he wasn’t sure how to handle it. “I am.”

“Tell you what,” Richard’s eyes raked over him andMitch was suddenly very self-conscious of the outfit he’d chosen to wear that evening; black bondage pants that clung to his hips and hung loosely around his legs, pooling slightly at his feet, combat boots, and a purple fishnet top that showed off his underdeveloped, hairless chest and pink nipples. He must look like such a child. “Why don’t you put down that empty glass and we go dance for a while, then you let me buy you another drink?”

Without waiting for an answer, the taller man took the glass from Mitch's hand, setting it on an empty table before he took Mitch by the hand and led him onto the dance floor. Mitch had never gone onto the floor to dance before. So far, every time he’d snuck out and gone to the club, he’d just spent a few hours stared at the other boys dancing, nursing his hard on in a dark corner and hoping that he looked as inconspicuous as he thought he was. Richard, however, did not have any insecurities about dancing. He grabbed the straps on Mitch’s pants and yanked the sandy haired kid against him, hard, before grinding, staring down at his dance partner with intensity like Mitch had never seen before.

The muscles of Richard’s thigh pressed against Mitch’s erection and he nearly came in his pants. Richard Carter, a famous actor, was gyrated against him, his erection tenting his pants and digging into Mitch’s abdomen. It was like some kind of crazy dream. A really nice dream that was threatening to turn wet if he didn’t move away soon. Pulling back a little, Mitch tried to keep up to the music with his hips, imitating Richard as best he could. The only other times he’d danced before had been with his friends and it had never been anything like this. Dancing with his friends was for fun, for laughs, this was to get off.

He felt the familiar stir in his balls and tried to back up, but Richard let go of the straps and grabbed onto Mitch’s hips instead, holding the two of them tightly together. Something pressed against Mitch from behind and it took him a moment to realize it was another man. Richard smiled at whoever it was and winked at him before looking back down at Mitch, never missing a beat. The man behind him pressed closer and Mitch could feel the outline of a cock rubbing against his backside.

And he came. No pretense, no chance to moan, or even think about it. He just came in his pants on a dance floor with Richard Carter pressed against his front and some anonymous man behind him. For a moment it was all he could do to stand and if Richard’s hands hadn’t still been holding onto him, he might have actually fallen.

Looking up with guilty eyes, he saw Richard smiling down at him in apparent amusement. “Well, I guess we’ll just move onto the drink then, shall we?”

Mitch was in the process of nodding when a hand shot forward from behind him and grabbed Richard’s lapel, stopping him as he turned to lead the way back to a group of tables off the side of the dance floor. Looking back, Mitch nearly fell over himself. The man behind him was a tall, lanky fellow with blond hair and eyes as bright a green as Richard’s were blue. He recognized him from the tabloids, even if he didn’t know his name. Wasn’t it Peter something?

Richard sneered comically. “What, Paul, it’s just drinks?”

Paul looked down at Mitch. Unlike Richard, he didn’t look like he was joking. Instead, he was studying Mitch’s face. Finally, he looked back at Richard, his fist still gripping the actor’s shirt. “He’s too young.”

Richard stuck out his tongue and grabbed Mitch, turning him so that the smaller boy’s back was pressed against his chest. Mitch felt hot breath on his ear and his cock, which was still nestled in the wet patch of cum in his boxers, started to stir again. “He’s not too young, he is drinking after all. How old are you?”

Mitch looked up and back with wide eyes. How old was he supposed to be again? Oh, right. “Twenty-one.”

Paul scoffed, “Oh, fuck that, Richard, there is no way he’s twenty-one.”

“Am too!” Mitch pulled away from Richard long enough to get his wallet out and flash his ID at the men. Well, it wasn’t his ID, actually, it was his brother’s, but they looked something alike, even with six years between them.

Richard growled in his ear and Mitch’s heart skipped a beat. “See, I told you. Not too young by far. Come on.”

A hand sought his out and he allowed himself to be led, Paul following behind them, to a table pushed in the corner where three other men were waiting. Richard sat in the corner, and pulled Mitch onto the chair next to him. “So, Cutie, what’s your name?”

“Mitchell Dearing. But everyone calls me Mitch.”

Paul mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like, “that’s not what it said on the ID,” but otherwise kept his opinion to himself. Richard didn’t seem to notice. “Well, Mitchell-dear, what do you want to drink?”

One of the men sitting at the table, a shorter man with Hispanic features and a drunken lilt leaned over. “Aw, Richie, he ain’ ol’ ‘nough to drink. He’s a baby.”

“I am not!” Okay, maybe he was too young to drink, but that didn’t make him a baby. “I want... Vodka.” It sounded like something his brother would have ordered, something manly.

Richard chuckled into his ear, “Big man drink. Stay right here.”

Mitch grinned as Richard slipped out of the seat and winked at him before heading off to the bar. Then he realized that he’d been left at a table with four men he didn’t know, one of whom was glaring at him like he was something that had been scraped off the bottom of their collective shoes.

There were two Spanish boys, one slightly taller than the other and a little broader, but other than that they looked like they could have been twins, with dirty-blonde hair and chocolate eyes. The third boy had russet colored hair, streaked with white blond. With his pale skin and whip cord body it looked sexy, especially with the way he was sitting, one foot on the floor, the other on the table, his leg bent nearly double and pressed against his chest. How could anyone be that _flexible_?

The broader of the two Hispanic boys leaned forward, putting his arms on the table and his chin on his arms. “H’llo, Mitch, I’m Mickey.”

His brother, because Mitch figured that’s what they were, elbowed him in the side and nearly sent him tumbling off his chair. “You are Miguel.” Then he looked over at Mitch and winked, “And I’m Louis.”

“Oh.” Mitch shifted uncomfortable. “How do you know Richard?”

Mickey chuckled and picked up his drink, making a motion like he was toasting before downing half the contents. It was Louis who answered his question, however, with a poorly hidden grin on his face. “We were extra’s on the set of one of his movies and he invited us home for a party.”

Mickey chuckled into his glass, “Richie throws the _best_ parties.”

The redhead hadn’t said anything; he’d just sat there, looking disinterested in the whole affair. Paul leaned towards Mitch and lowered his voice, “Get the hell out of here, kid.”

Taken aback, Mitch did his best to square his shoulders, “I’m not going anywhere and I’m not a kid, I’m twenty-one.”

“Like hell you’re twenty-one. Where’d you get the ID, anyway? A cousin, a brother?”

Mitch flushed and opened his mouth to retort, but Richard suddenly sat down next to him, all grins and somehow managing to hold five shot glasses in his hands. “Stop filling my boy’s head with nonsense.” He set the glasses down and leaned over to Mitch, winking at him, “And you are my boy, aren’t you, Mitchell-dear?”

It was heady, having a star like Richard Carter smile at him like that. He nodded and Richard leaned forward, kissing him full on the mouth. Louise and Mickey whistled, Paul snorted in apparent disgust, and the mysterious redhead cocked his head to one side and stared openly. After a moment Richard pulled back and ran his finger through Mitch’s hair. “We are going to have so much fun.”

Mitch nodded and the redhead finally smiled, before carefully selecting the shot glass closest to him. “Bottoms up, Mitch.”

He downed it in one gulp and as the others reached for theirs, Richard pushed one towards Mitch. “Go ahead.”

Taking it, Mitch looked at the small, unassuming glass filled with a water-like clear substance. How bad could it be, really? His brother loved Vodka, he’d heard him talk about it with his friends. It wasn’t supposed to have any kind of taste, which was perfect, because that alcohol taste that had been in every drink Mitch had had so far had been awful and grating on his throat. With a deep breath, he tossed it back and nearly choked when it burned its way down.

Richard patted his back as he bent over, coughing. Paul was actually laughing, and not mockingly, as Mitch would have suspected, but sympathetically. Mitch wiped his eyes as Richard chuckled, “Never had Vodka before, huh?”

There was no pretending otherwise, so he nodded, sitting up and looking at the actor, who kept smiling back. “It burned and... is it supposed to taste that bitter?”

Richard didn’t remark on that, but looked up at the redhead. “Tanner, go get us another round.”

The boy flipped him the middle finger, but got up to do as he had asked. Mitch tried to smile at Richard, but the room chose that moment to start spinning, so he put his head on the table. Paul mumbled something under his breath before getting up and moving back onto the dance floor. Something warm and wet moved along Mitch’s ear and he heard Richard say, “He’s such a spoil sport, but don’t worry about him, he’ll come around. He always does.”

Teeth scraped against his ear and then down his neck and little electric shocks went through him at the sensation. He moaned, “that’s nice.” But the room was still spinning and he closed his eyes, trying to block it out. He must have had too much to drink, because the harder Mitch fought the pull of sleep, the harder it dragged him under. His last conscious thought was, ‘Damn, mum is going to be pissed.’

 

*****

 

Light was pouring in from somewhere, piercing his eyes through closed lids. His tongue was heavy and his head felt like it was full of marshmallows. Mitch scrunched his eyes tight and turned away from the light, into the soft pillow, which, unfortunately, required moving. Pain shot through his head and he groaned, the noise sounded pitifully muffled.

Someone chuckled and the bed dipped behind him. “Finally awake, huh?”

Who the hell was that?

Mitch turned around sharply, holding a hand to his temple and squinting at the man sitting on the bed next to him. The blanket that had been pulled up to his shoulders slid down and Mitch became acutely aware that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. In fact, come to that, he wasn’t wearing his pants either. What the hell was some strange man doing in his room this early in the morning and why was he naked?

Slowly, the face in front of him came into focus - dark hair, brilliant blue eyes, smooth, tan skin. It all came back. The whole night rushed in on him and Mitch looked around, realizing for the first time that this wasn’t his room. His room at home had barely been large enough for his twin bed, wardrobe and small desk; the walls were covered in posters of bands and half naked men that he’d manage to filch from his best friend Cynthia, who knew someone who worked at Abercrombie and Fitch.

This room was... fully and completely everything his was not. It was huge, nearly as big as his parent’s living room. The walls were a pristine egg shell white and nothing hung off them save a tasteful calendar over an immaculate desk and a clock over the entertainment center. Oh, and the entertainment center! It was huge, with a flat screen television, several game consoles, and a DVD player - not to mention more DVD’s than Mitch had ever seen in a personal collection. There had to be _hundreds_.

Looking back at the man now lounging beside him, Mitch shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t wearing underwear, either. “Um, hi.”

Richard grinned brightly and patted him on the knee before bounding up and over to the desk, where a tray sat, holding two mugs of coffee, a plate of toast, and several jams. “I wasn’t sure what you liked.”

Mitch frowned down at the assortment, aware for the first time that his stomach was giving serious protest to all the sudden movement. The toast was slathered in butter and Richard one picked up, handing it to Mitch, his grin never wavering. “Don’t worry, it’ll help.”

Reluctantly, he bit into the bread. Several bites later, he had to admit that it was indeed helping. Richard set the tray down, ordering him to have some coffee as well and went around a corner, talking cheerfully. “I can’t believe you slept clear till noon. I was sure you’d be up by nine.”

With an embarrassed pout, Mitch held the mug in both his hands. “I passed out, then?”

“Of course, right in the middle of the club. I had to carry you to the car.” He came back out and sat on the bed again, careful not to knock over the tray and held out two aspirin. “Go ahead, your head’ll be killing you.”

It was, but Mitch had more important things to worry about, “Thank you. For bringing me with you, I mean. I don’t usually do a lot of drinking; I guess I didn’t realize I’d be such a light weight.”

“Nonsense, I drugged you. With the amount you drank, I’d hardly call you a light-weight.”

Mitch’s brain froze. He couldn’t even begin to work through that sentence and all its implications, especially not when Richard was still smiling at him as if everything in the world were perfectly normal. Maybe… maybe he’d misheard. “I’m sorry, you what?”

“I said I’d hardly call you a light weight. I mean, you’re what, five-foot-four, a hundred and twenty pound?

“Five-foot-five.”

“Well, a hurricane, two and a half daiquiri’s and a shot of vodka’s pretty good for your size. You know I watched you all night and I kept expecting you to just keel over any moment, but you held your own. You really don’t do a lot of drinking?”

Shaking his head, Mitch looked at the aspirin still in his hand. “But you said... you drugged me?”

Richard nodded, “Of course, when you first walked in I knew I had to have you.”

The inside of Mitch’s stomach, which had begun to enjoy the toast, suddenly twisted as the implication of what he was being told settled in. Had he been... date raped? It sounded so impossible, but what Richard was saying reminded him of all the warnings Cynthia had ever been given by their parents. But Richard was still smiling and he couldn’t imagine that someone would smile at their rape victim while telling them what they’d done. Wouldn’t he rather keep it a secret and let Mitch think he’d just gotten drunk? And not to say that Mitch had had a great deal of sex, he was still sadly a virgin, but he thought there might have been some physical indications if he had and right then the only discomfort he could feel was the pounding of his head and the slight upset of his stomach.

“Did we...?”

Thankfully, Richard stopped him from having to finish, because he didn’t think he’d have been able to. With a chuckle and a tap on the nose, the actor stood up and stretched. “Of course not. I never take advantage of my boys when they’re unconscious. Look, I need to go out for a while, get some fresh air, exercise. You’ll be alright here alone?” When Mitch didn’t answer immediately, he winked. “I’ll bring you back something nice if you promise to behave.”

“I think...” What did he think? Was Richard serious, was he playing? He didn’t even know Richard Carter past his name and he’d gone home with him. Well, ‘gone’ was debatable, actually, he might have just been taken. This was insane. “I think I should be going home. My parents are going to be worried.”

“They always are.” The actor stretched his hands over his head, flexing his well muscled arms. “Look, Mitchell-dear, you aren’t going anywhere, so you might as well make yourself comfortable.”

As discretely as he could, Mitch looked around the room for his clothes. “Um, is there a phone that maybe I could call them on? I mean, they might phone the police if they don’t hear from me.”

Richard began stretching his leg muscles, still looking nonplused by the conversation. “I’m sure they did that the moment they woke up and you weren’t in bed, but you’re twenty-one. Boys your age go missing all the time and they usually show up a few days or weeks later. No one’s going to be looking especially hard for you.”

Screw his clothes. Jumping up from the bed, Mitch tried to untangle himself from the covers and run at the same time, but he didn’t even make it past Richard, who caught him around the waist and held him, laughing as Mitch tried to elbow and kick him from behind. The actor dropped to the floor, dragging the fighting teen with him and readjusted his grip so that his arms were wrapped around Mitch’s thin chest and arms, pinning them to his sides uselessly.

Panting and frustrated, Mitch tried to get his feet under him, but he’d fallen to his knees and Richard had settled between his legs, making it impossible to get any kind of footing or do any damage. Finally he tried his last resort and screamed. And screamed. And screamed. Eventually, he ran out of breath and hung limply in Richard’s arms, holding back sobs, but just barely.

The actor hummed in his ear quietly, “There you go, it’s okay. Now just calm down. I’m going to let you go, but I want you to remember a few things, okay, Mitchell-dear.” A sob came through at the endearment and he twisted again, on the off-chance that the grip had relaxed. It hadn’t. “I need you to remember that I am a trained athlete. I am larger, stronger, and older than you. If you fight me, I will hold you down. If you run, I will catch you, not that there’s anywhere to run to. Are we clear?”

Tears had started making their way down Mitch’s cheeks, but he didn’t care about that. He forced himself to nod. It was true. The closest he’d ever come to physical training was climbing the stairs in school.

“Good. Now, you’ll find that we are on the second floor over a garage. No one above us, no one bellow us. I live on my parents’ estate, but I live in the back and no one comes here but me. Not the maid, not my parents, not my sister Camilla. The only people you might seeare the gardeners and they know better than to stick their nose into my business. The windows are barred and they are bullet proof, you won’t be able to break them. They don’t open.”

This was unreal. It couldn’t be happening.

“When I leave, I will dead bolt the door from the outside. When I’m home, I lock the doors and turn on the alarm. If you try to get out, you will wake me up and, trust me, Mitchell-dear, you do not want to wake me up.” The arms around him loosened a fraction, but Mitch felt too weak and numb to fight against them. “That’s better. Now what say we get that aspirin in you.”

It took several attempts for Mitch to choke down the little white pills. In the end they dissolved on his tongue and he swallowed the bitter tasting water between the sobs that wracked his body. Why had he gone out without telling Cynthia? Why had he accepting a drink from a complete stranger? Because the stranger had been Richard bloody Carter and he hadn’t thought, hadn’t even dreamed that someone so famous and so gorgeous could be such a nut job.

Richard put a hand on his head and stood up, looking down at him with the cocky sort of smile that Mitch used to think was cute - on Richard, it was scary. “Those’ll probably make you feel a bit drowsy after a while. You try and get out, or do whatever else you want and then take a nap. We’re going to have a get together tonight. Just you, me, and some of my friends. How does that sound?”

Since it was obvious that Richard wanted an answer, Mitch nodded. People were good. If there were people around, maybe he could get a message to them to call the cops or something. Richard chuckled and walked past him, stopping at the door just long enough to send one last warning, “Behave yourself, Mitchell-dear,” before closing the door.

The lock clicked into place and Mitch let his head fall forward onto the floor and gave way to the urge to cry.

 

*****

 

_“Paul, buddy, get your lazy ass up!”_

The phone was screaming at him. Paul hated being woken up by the damned phone.

_“Paul, buddy, get your lazy ass up!”_

He especially hated it when it was Richard.

_“Paul, buddy, get your...”_

He grabbed his cell and clicked the talk button, pressing it to his ear, “What the fuck, Rich, it’s...” He shoved the water bottles off his bedside table in search of his alarm and squinted to focus on the blurry, red number. Well, shit. “Is it really almost one?”

Richard chuckled, “In the afternoon. Get up, I’ll be at your place in five. Our trainers’ll be pissed if we’re late again.”

His stomach rolled as Paul forced himself to sit up. “I don’t think I can do it today. That shit we hit last night must have been laced because my head is killing me.”

“Suck it up! If we miss another session, they might call our managers and I am not in the mood to deal with Peterson today. Take an Excedrine, a Tylenol and a caffeine pill and get your ass in gear. I’ll be at your door in a few.”

The phone clicked off and Paul tossed it down on the bed, throwing back the sheet while he rummaged on his floor for clothes. His workout gear was in the locker at the gym and it was a good twenty minute ride, so the medicine should kick in before they got there. He pulled on his jeans and yanked the t-shirt over his head - then took the shirt off again and put it on the right way.

He pushed his sunglasses on his face and ran his hand through his hair. That was the last time he let Richard talk him into going clubbing the day before work out. And then he remembered last night. “Fuck! Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh FUCK!”

Sitting up, he put his head in his hands and tried to think. Small, with sandy hair that hung around his ears, light hazel eyes, pale complexion and young, very, very young. God, what had Richard been thinking? Or, more importantly, what had Richard been thinking with. There was no way that kid had been over eighteen, let alone twenty-fucking-one. Closing his eyes, Paul tried to remember the rest. They’d danced, then gone back to the table. Richard had bought the kid a drink, a shot of something and... everything went hazy after that, but Paul was sure of one thing. The kid had definitely gone home with Richard. Shit!

A knock on his bedroom door jarred him out of his thoughts and he grabbed his blazer, pulling it over his wrinkled clothes. Richard thrust a small plastic baggie with six pills inside it into Paul’s hand with a winning smile. “You always forget. Come on, I’ve got water in the car.”

The drive was unusually silent, mostly because the sunlight seared Paul’s eyes and he was trying to let the drugs work their miracle. By the time they got to the gym, he still felt like shit and he knew he looked it, but he also knew that he could get through the routine without vomiting all over his trainer. Again.

They waved at the receptionist and went down to the locker rooms to get dressed. Paul imagined that he’d make quite the picture for the tabloids right about then. There was no question what he had been up to the night before. As usual, the locker rooms were empty this time of day, and Paul finally forced himself to ask the question that had been eating at him. “So, how’s the kid?”

Richard chuckled, pulling his clothes off shamelessly. “He’s fine. A little disoriented, but otherwise okay. I think I gave him too much. He slept clear till noon.”

Paul nodded. “Has he said anything?”

“Not really. He lives with his parents, which’ll make things admittedly more difficult, but otherwise I think he’s good.”

He lived with his parents? “Richard, you haven’t done anything with him yet, have you?”

“‘Course not, you know my routine better than anyone. Speaking of which, party tonight, in honor of my new guest. I’m counting on you.”

Paul cringed, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t expected it. Richard was, if nothing else, a man firmly entrenched in routine. “Richard, I don’t think he’s...”

The door opened and a man came in, halting their conversation. They smiled at him and finished lacing up their shoes before heading up the back stairs to the room where their trainers would be waiting. Richard preferred to keep his sex life under wraps for obvious reasons and while his closest friends knew that he was gay, he’d told no one else, not even his family. He always said it was easier to keep a secret if no one knew about it. An image popped into Paul’s head of the boy, smiling up at Richard with the kind of adoration that only the truly young and naive possess.

He’d have to talk with Richard again later, after the workout, before the party. Before things became irreversible.

His trainer was a young Russian girl named Claudia. She had waist length brown hair that she always pulled back into a tight bun and darkly tanned skin that spoke of hours in the sun. He towered over her in both height and stature, which was probably why having her scream at him for an hour and a half was such a turn on. He’d always gotten off on forceful women. Well, that and submissive boys, but one should always keep their options open.

When they’d finally finished and Richard was wiping sweat off his brow, talking to Roberto about why he hadn’t pulled his normal weight. Paul took the opportunity to do something he’d been wanting to do for some time: ask Claudia out. However, being twenty-five and movie star did not mean he was good at picking up women. It was one of the reasons he stayed the hell out of the dating scene.

“Hey, uh, Claudia?”

She turned around, smiling brightly as if she hadn’t called him a useless sack of pig guts not five minutes previously. “Is something wrong, Paul? You appear pale.”

He chuckled at her dialect, but then he also had a thing for accents and hers was adorable. “Not really, but, um, I was wondering...” she raised an eyebrow expectantly and he got the impression from the quirk of her mouth, that she knew what he was about to say, but was letting him drag it out. “Would you, I dunno, like to go out sometime? Maybe to the theater or to get something to eat? There’s this play I’ve been wanting to go see and...”

She put a finger to his lips, “I cannot date clients, Paul, no matter how much I may be fond of them.” He felt the pangs of rejection in the pit of his stomach. “So, then, I suppose that for one night, you will have to fire me.”

The pangs were replaced by hopeful butterflies, “Really?” She nodded, her cheeks pink with blush. “Can I change my mind in the morning?”

With a laugh, she nodded again. “Or the afternoon, depending on how well the date goes, no?”

He started to laugh with her, but Richard interrupted. “What’s going on?”

Paul shook his head, “Nothing, I’m just thinking about firing my trainer.” Richard looked very confused at the girl’s smile, but Paul didn’t give him time to question it. “Let’s get dressed. I’ll call you tomorrow, Claudia, okay?”

She waved at him and turned to talk to Roberto, who was frowning at her in disapproval. Richard took his arm. “Got a date?”

“Yup.”

“She’s a spitfire.”

“That’s how I like them.”

“I know.” And he did, because Richard knew everything there was to know about Paul and Paul knew everything there was to know about Richard. “Now, let’s get dressed and grab a bite to eat before I head out.”


	2. Chapter 2

Mitch was terrified.

The first thing he’d done after Richard had left wasget dressed. He’d found a large button up shirt that smelled almost like the lemon detergent his mother used, a pair of boxers that kept trying to fall off his hips, and shorts that had to be synched with a belt and hung down to below his knees. It was awkward, but at least he wasn’t naked. Once he’d dressed, he’d tried the door, but it wouldn’t budge. The closet had all plastic hangers and he’d searched for a while for something he could pick the lock with, but there wasn’t anything. Not that Mitch knew how to pick a lock, anyway.

His next goal had been to find a phone, because surely Richard would want to call people, but there wasn’t a phone anywhere, only a phone jack that connected to the laptop, which was password protected. Having failed that, he decided to try the windows, but they were sealed shut, without even a latch. Then he’d sat on the bed and stared at his surroundings for a good ten minutes before grabbing the desk chair and slamming it into the window. It bounced off, hitting his shoulder painfully. He’d thrown other things at the window as well, mostly out of frustration, but also because he was nearing hysterics and at least this was something, it wasn’t giving up. Although, to be honest, even if he could have broken it, the bars were too closely spaced for him to get out.

Eventually, after nearly an hour of tossing the room around, the heavy lethargy from the pills had become too much and he laid down on the bed, falling asleep almost instantly. It wasn’t until he had woken up and sluggishly rubbed his eyes into focus that he realized exactly how much damage he had done. Oh, he hadn’t broken anything, but everything, from Richard’s clothes, to his medicine bottles, were strewn across the floor and the window was covered in sticky soda and beer from the cans he had thrown at it.

The clock read 6:07 p.m. and Mitch looked around for any sign that Richard had come back. Nothing. He’d been gone for six hours. Standing up, Mitch clutched at the wall as a wave of dizziness hit him. Not good. He couldn’t afford to pass out again, he couldn’t sit down, he had to keep moving, had to clean up the mess. The dizziness refused to pass, so he sat on the floor and started gathering clothes and anything else that he could remember having been in the closet.

An armful at a time, he hauled everything over and shoved it inside, then forced the door closed and put his back to it, looking out at the rest of the room. The desk, he should put everything back in the desk drawers next. He stood up and was pleased that the room wasn’t spinning quite as much - at least, he could walk without support. Then the door opened.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, because he certainly hadn’t thought the entire room would be done by the time Richard got back, but of all the scenarios he’d run through his head in the last twenty minutes, it had always been Richard who walked through the door. Instead, he was faced with the redhead from the club. “What the bloody hell, Richard, your place is a fucking mess!”

He barely had time to realize the accent was English before Mickey pushed through, “Fuck!”

Richard squeezed in between them and his eyebrows shot up. Mitch had pushed himself into the far corner at the foot of the bed when he’d heard the key in the lock, but he was starting to wish he’d left himself somewhere else to run, especially when Richard locked eyes with him. “Awake, then?”

He nodded, ashamed at the way he was shaking and Richard chuckled, walking over to him and rustling his hair. “I didn’t expect you to start moving for another hour, at least. You just keep surprising me.” He kicked the cans towards his desk, “Come on in. You’ll have to excuse the mess, Mitchell-dear got a little restless.”

The redhead, he vaguely remembered his name was Tanner, eyed Mitch, taking in the small boy in baggy clothes, “Guess you shouldn’t leave him alone just yet.”

Louis came in after his brother, whistling, and Paul came through last, closing the door behind him and punching in a sequence of numbers on the keypad before turning the lock into place. Mitch wished dearly that he could see through the wall. They arranged themselves around the room. Richard took the middle of the bed, leaning against the wall. Paul sat next to him against the headboard and toed off his shoes, sprawling casually on the pillows. Louis and Mickey sat on the floor and Tanner pulled the desk chair around, sitting in it with his legs sprawled open and his elbows on his knees.

They watched television, random shows, whatever was on. Richard beckoned for Mitch to join him on the bed and when Mitch tried to shake his head no, he’d grabbed his arm and yanked him up, holding him there with an arm around his shoulder. He felt like a small child being tossed around by his father and it occurred to him exactly how useless trying to fight this man would be. He could probably use Mitch as a bench press.

For a while, Richard seemed interested in some program about a serial killer and how he had gotten away with murdering ten people over the course of six years. They had started describing the killers methodology, which was apparently strangulation and Mitch started to feel sick as he watched Richard’s face. It was almost like he was studying it. Just when he thought he might actually throw up, Paul grabbed the remote and changed the channel, saying that he didn’t feel like watching ‘this shit.’

When they got bored of television, Richard made the boys put a video game in, and they started in on Halo, two against two with Louis and Mickey trading off. Richard made Mitch play a few times. It was easy, just for those brief moments, to forget where he was and who he was sitting next to and the fact that it wasn’t, by any stretch of the imagination, consensual. He’d laughed when he’d managed to kill Louis once and Richard had hugged him and kissed his cheek, humming approval in his ear. It was fun.

“You boys ready?” It was almost a whisper, but the others heard it.

Tanner narrowed his eyes at Richard, “Where’d you get it this time?”

Richard chuckled, his mouth still close to Mitch’s ear. “Don’t ask, don’t tell, Tanner, my boy, but it’s quality. It always is.”

Very slowly, Mitch began to realize that they were talking about drugs. He hadn’t had much experience with the stuff. In fact, he had none and the idea of Richard on drugs scared the shit out of him. Richard pulled away and dug into his pocket, producing a small bottle that looked like it was from a pharmacy. He opened it and fished out three before handing it to Mickey. “Take one and pass it along.”

As the others took the little white pills and shoved them in their mouths, swigging them down with beer, Richard passed one to Paul and took one himself. Paul looked at it and finally shook his head. “Not tonight, Richard.”

Richard grinned lewdly and leaned over Paul, licking his cheek. “Don’t make me beg.”

Mitch got the feeling that begging was the last thing Richard would do, not with the way he was grinning like an animal on the hunt. Paul sighed and popped it in and Richard kissed him, full on the mouth. It was heart stopping for a moment. There wasn’t any tongue and it didn’t appear particularly lusty, but something about the two of them and the way Richard’s pants were pressed tight against Paul’s leg, was breathtaking.

Finally, after several seconds, Richard pulled away. “Good boy. We are going to have so much fun tonight.” Then, he turned his attention to Mitch. “Open up, Mitchell-dear, you’re going to take a little ride.”

He’d never done drugs before and he wasn’t about to start now, not with some psychopathic kidnapper and his group of equally psychotic friends. Mitch started to back up, but suddenly someone was behind him and he looked back to see Tanner holding his shoulders and staring intently at him. “Trust him, Mitch, you’ll want it.”

But he didn’t want it, he wanted to go home. How could he have forgotten, for even a moment, who these people were? He’d been kidnapped for no apparent reason and was being held captive in the garage apartment of a twenty-something-year-old actor and these men were the man’s accomplices. He tried to pull away from Tanner, but Richard had sat on his legs and he couldn’t go anywhere. “I don’t want to.”

Richard frowned, “Doesn’t matter. Open up or I’ll make you.”

It wasn’t an empty threat. Mitch didn’t doubt for an instant that Richard could indeed make him, but he wasn’t going to just roll over and take what they told him to. What if it was crazy addictive? What if he had some kind of allergic reaction? Would they take him to a hospital or even a doctor, or would they just let him die?

However, Richard wasn’t waiting for an answer. He grabbed Mitch’s jaw between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed. Tanner’s grip on his shoulders’ tightened as Mitch tried to scoot back from the prying hand. Slowly, his jaw was forced open and Richard shoved the pill between his teeth and let go, only to clamp the hand over his mouth. “Swallow.”

Mitch could feel tears tracking down his cheeks. He couldn’t shake his head, he couldn’t do anything when he was sandwiched between two men, both larger and stronger than he was. Finally, he slumped down and closed his eyes, forcing himself to swallow. It left a chalky taste in his mouth that was quickly overpowered by the salty tang of Richard’s finger as it searched around, trying to find any trace that the pill was still there.

With a great deal of effort, Mitch managed not to bite down and Richard pulled out the finger, smiling down at him. “Good boy. You can let him go, Tanner.”

The redhead licked Mitch’s ear as he let go of his shoulders and Mitch jerked away, pressing himself against the wall and as far away from everyone else as he could. Why were they all leering at him like that? But they stopped, almost as soon as they started. Tanner sat back on his chair and he and Louis picked up the controllers again. Mickey had never let go of his. Richard offered Paul a turn, but the other man passed, so Richard ruffled Mickey’s hair affectionately. “It’s you and me against the world.”

Mitch watched, heavy with uncertainty. He couldn’t feel anything yet, but as he’d never done drugs before, he really wasn’t sure how long it would be before he did. Part of him wanted to ask what it was he’d taken, another part was simply relieved that they were leaving him alone again. Maybe that was all Richard wanted for now. Maybe they would get high and play video games all night and that was it.

It started with the urge to scratch his arm. He’d been hugging himself since they had forced the drug on him and suddenly his arm itched. He moved his hand, scratching the spot and looked at it. There wasn’t any kind of rash. Richard was looking at him and he started to scoot away nervously, only to have the larger man reach other out wrap an arm around him, dragging him over.

“Let’s give our guest have a turn, eh?”

Paul sucked in his breath sharply and Mitch looked over at him. The blond haired man was sitting in the corner watched them warily, as if he expected something bad to happen. Mitch remembered Paul’s words that night at the club, ‘get the hell out of here, kid.’ He didn’t want to imagine what was going to happen. He just wanted to play video games until he passed out and maybe he could convince Richard to take him home in the morning.

The actor grabbed his face, kissing him soundly. Mitch’s lips tingled at the contact and he let out a startled moan. Before he could determine what it was, though, Richard pulled away and moved him over to sit between his legs, thrusting the controller into his hand. “Try and concentrate.”

He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he resolved to do his best. Tanner was feeling ruthless, but luckily Mickey had his back or he’d have died several more times than he already had. Louis was creeping around a corner and Mitch had him in his sights. He pressed the button just as a hand crept under his lose fitting shirt and pinched his nipple. His squeak of surprise was covered by Louis outraged cry as his screen went red and he rematerialized in another area. Mitch, however, wasn’t paying attention to that. His nipple was tingling sharply where Richard’s fingers were rolling it and his cock had become instantly hard.

He couldn’t bite back a moan as Richard scraped his ear with his teeth and squeezed his nipple again. Mitch had only ever made out with two boys before - a friend of his brother’s last year and his boyfriend Mark - but he knew what it felt like when someone pinched his nipple or bit his ear and it had never felt anything like this. Everywhere Richard touched, his body started to itch for more contact. It was embarrassing and arousing and the conflict of emotions was enough to nearly send him into frustrated tears.

Richard chuckled and trailed kisses from his collarbone back up to his ear. “Keep playing.”

He forced his hands to move, though he really wasn’t sure what he was doing. There was a small portion of his brain that registered he’d fallen off the edge of something and lost hit points, but the majority of his mental faculties were rapidly turning to mush as Richard unbuttoned the borrowed shirt and ran his broad hands over the exposed skin underneath. It felt so good! Mitch took one hand off the controller and put it over Richard’s, not sure whether he was trying to pull it away, or push it lower.

With another lazy lick up the side of his neck, Richard’s hand crept down, delving into the loose fitting shorts. The moment the large hand wrapped around his cock, Mitch came, spewing cum inside his trousers. But his erection didn’t flag and Richard didn’t falter, not in the least daunted by the fact that his partner had already cum. Mitch whined piteously and found himself grinding into the hand, humiliated, but desperate for the contact.

The others were still playing the game, though he’d begun to notice through his haze that they were occasionally touching themselves, Paul especially, who couldn’t stop rubbing his arms as if he were cold - except it wasn’t cold in the room. The drugs. His moans rose in volume as Richard moved his fingers to scrape Mitch’s tight balls, over and under. It must have been the drugs, because Mitch had never felt anything like this.

One of Richard’s fingers crept lower still and brushed against the puckered entrance of his ass and Mitch’s brain suddenly decided to start working again. He wanted to be touched, god he wanted to be touched everywhere, but he didn’t want that. Forcing his legs closed, he wondered half heartedly when they had fallen open in the first place. He grabbed onto Richard’s arm and tried to move his hand back up and into safe territory, but the actor was far stronger than him and whatever they’d given him made his muscles feel weak and useless.

For a moment, Richard allowed agonizing respite, taking his hand out of Mitch’s pants so that he could use it to help trap both of the smaller boy’s wrists. Mitch groaned desperately, wishing he’d fought harder against taking the drug or not gone out on his birthday at all. Richard held his wrists tightly and grinned at his friends sitting on the floor. “Louis, get up here and help.”

The controller was dropped and Tanner scowled, apparently annoyed at having his partner abandon him. Louis, however, didn’t seem to mind in the least. He grinned like a Cheshire cat and crawled onto the bed, grabbing Mitch’s tightly closed knees and prying them apart. “Be a good boy, Mitch. We just want to play with you.”

Louis positioned himself with his shoulders between Mitch’s knees, which put Louis’s face just above his crotch. This wasn’t happening. Mitch was torn between whining and moaning as Richard adjusted his grip to hold both of the wrists in one hand and put the other back in his trousers, bypassing his cock and going straight for his ass.

Mitch tried to lift his hips away from the contact, but Louis had wrapped his arms under and around his thighs, holding his down against the bed as Richard forced the tip of the digit past the resistance of his hole. It hurt a little, the dry finger rubbing past the tightly clenched hole, but it was the embarrassment of the situation that hurt the worst.

He’d had fantasies about losing his virginity, just like everyone else. He generally imagined it would be in his bed or the back of a car with loud music playing. Overall, he didn’t really expect a great deal from a first time experience, but he’d never imagined it would be like this, not with two men holding him down while three others alternately watched and played video games.

Richard pulled the finger out and put it in front of Louis’s face, “Suck it.”

Louis grinned and Mitch stared, open-mouthed as Richard’s finger was sucked into the Spaniard’s mouth. After several seconds of lathering spit on it, Richard pulled it away and put it back in Mitch’s pants. This time the finger had no trouble gaining entrance and it slipped in to the knuckle with ease. Mitch cried out, more from the suddenness than pain. In fact, with the addition of spit, the pain was practically non-existent, replaced by the overwhelming sensation of relief brought on by the drug.

From the floor, Mickey was half paying attention to them and half trying to win the battle against Tanner, who seemed to have a personal vendetta against the man. “Louis, do that thing where you suck him. I’m sure he’ll love it.”

Louis grinned at Mitch, who did moan this time, because his groin ached for attention and if there was one thing that would take his mind off the finger slowly fucking his ass, having his cock sucked was it. The Spaniard licked trail up the inside of Mitch’s thigh before look past him at Richard, “Can I, Rich, can I suck his cock?”

“Be my guest.”

Louis removed himself from between Mitch’s legs long enough to pull off the shorts, but by now, he’d almost resigned himself to the finger forced between his cheeks and besides, it was only a finger and it almost felt good. At the very least, it satisfied the drug-induced itch. When Louis leaned back over and took just the head of his cock between his lips, Mitch very nearly came again. In fact, it was the tight grip that Louis had on the base of his shaft that kept the orgasm at bay. Mitch’s vocabulary had been reduced to moan, whimper, groan and whine. Four very undignified gestures that clawed their way out of his throat whether he wanted them to or not. Like now. He wanted Louis to do more, so he whined, but what he was doing felt so good that he moaned.

Mitch heard Richard chuckle in his ear and whimpered, because Richard’s laughter did not necessarily mean that things were okay. “Louis, suck the boy off before he has an aneurism.”

As with every order and request Richard had given to his friends, this one was obeyed. Louis pulled his lips over his teeth and sank his mouth around Mitch’s cock until it rested just at his throat. Then he swallowed. With or without the drug, Mitch would have cum. The tight, convulsing heat of the back of Louis’s throat sent him far more than over the edge and he actually cried out in pleasure as he came, bucking his hips forward as best he could and driving himself onto the finger still wedged in his ass.

Despite the fact that he had cum, Louis wasn’t stopped. He sucked it down, swallowed, and fastidiously licked around Mitch’s cock, cleaning the mess before taking the still throbbing erection into his mouth and suckling it lightly. Richard moaned with him, licking his ear, but Mitch couldn’t distinguish anything other than pleasure at the moment.

Richard pulled his finger out and Mitch felt two take its place, pushing inside of him. He pulled away and felt the barest scraping of teeth against the underside of his cock. The fingers hurt, like they were tearing at his skin. Richard grunted disapprovingly and Louis gripped his thighs against, forcing him to sit still.

“Tanner.” Tanner didn’t look at Richard, but kept his eyes pealed where Mitch’s cock disappeared into Louis’s mouth. “Get the lubricant out of the desk drawer. I swear he’s as tight as a virgin.”

There was a round of chuckles, even Paul, though his seemed more cynical. Mitch closed his eyes, fighting the build up of tears, but there really wasn’t anything he could do about it. He could tell Richard his age, but he was afraid of how the man would react, he could tell him that he was a virgin, but he was afraid they’d think it was more fun that way. When the fingers returned they were cold and covered in something slick, but they didn’t hurt this time. They stretched him a little too wide, perhaps, but not severely so.

“Much better.” Mitch groaned as the fingers pulled out of him and pushed back in, while Louis bobbed his head up and down his overly sensitive prick. Maybe if this was all there was...

Richard pushed his fingers in deeper and crooked them, sending off electric shocks of pleasure racing through Mitch’s body. The mouth on him vibrated at Louis chuckled and then pulled up. “Think he’s ready?”

The fingers pressed into that spot again and Mitch’s hips thrust of their own accord. Richard bit his earlobe. “Yeah, I do.”

Ready for what? Louis used his grip on Mitch’s legs to pull him so that his wrists, still caught in Richard’s hand, were held just above him and his head was in Richard’s lap, the actor’s hard cock pressed against his cheek through a pair of tight pants. Louis looked up. “Mind if I?”

Richard smiled cordially. “Not at all. Think of it as a reward for being such a good little cock sucker.”

Reward? What reward? He looked at Louis and saw him hastily undoing his zipper and pulling his cock out, not even bothering to drop his pants fully. Not that. Despite his drug addled mind, he knew very well where this was going and he didn’t want it. It didn’t matter that it had felt kind of good so far, he didn’t want it. While Louis was busy stroking lubricant on himself, Mitch pulled one of his legs back, putting all the strength he could muster into kicking the man in the stomach. He celebrated a very small victory as the Spaniard doubled over, gasping for breath and clutching his stomach. “Little... shit.”

Paul laughed from his corner, a real laugh this time. “That’s what you get for wanting to be first, Louie. Greedy asshole's, you are.”

Louis scowled and locked eyes with Mitch, who had pulled his legs up in a vain attempt to cover himself and was desperately trying to pry his wrists out of Richard’s grip. “I’ll show you a greedy asshole.”

And before Mitch even knew what was happening, Louis had grabbed his legs and yanked him back to the edge of the bed. Mitch barely had enough time to realize that he seriously regretted pissing the man off, before something warm nudged his ass and pushed into him, hard. If it wasn’t for the men holding him down, he would have arched off the bed entirely. As it was, he could only scream, loudly, as he felt something tear viciously inside of him.

Louis didn’t wait for him to adjust, but started to slam into him rapidly and Mitch was reduced to choking on his own screams as the pain doubled and tripled with every movement of the cock inside of him. It was a thankfully short time before Louis came, ramming himself as deep into Mitch as he could before spilling his seed. With a contented sigh, the Spaniard pulled out and pet the side of Mitch’s face, saying, “That’s a good boy,” before shoving his penis back into his pants and sitting down to take up his controller again.

Richard let go of his arms and Mitch rolled over, covering his face with his hands and sobbing into them. His entire body shook with the force of it. Behind him, he felt the bed dip, but he knew it wasn’t Richard because the man’s legs were still on either side of him. He felt a hand run down the length of his spine. On instinct, he flung an arm back, intending to knock the person away, but it was caught and he looked back to see Tanner, staring at him in open lust.

“No.” He didn’t know why he said it, because it wasn’t like it would matter. The redhead grinned at him and shoved his arm back around and onto the bed near his head. After a good amount of struggling, Mitch managed to dislodge his other arm from under him, but Tanner grabbed that one as well, using it to forced Mitch onto his stomach. Tanner straddled Mitch’s legs at his knees and bent down, kissing the pale neck under him. Mitch’s face was turned towards Paul, who watched with a strained glare as Tanner let go of one of the captive arms and positioned his straining erection against Mitch’s torn and bloodied hole.

He didn’t know if he’d expected it to hurt less, he certainly hadn’t expected it to hurt more, but Tanner’s cock felt like it was ripping him apart as it pushed into him. Mitch couldn’t hold back his scream at the first penetration and although the pain only got worse from there, he managed to bite down on his lip and keep his noises to a minimal as he was fucked into the mattress.

Paul’s glare melted into lust after several conflicting minutes and Tanner chuckled behind Mitch, his voice husky with the excursion of fucking the unwilling body pinned bellow him. “Touch yourself for me, Paul.”

Mitch felt like he was in some kind of dream, except that dreams weren’t supposed to hurt. But, then, who was to say that things didn’t hurt in dreams and you just didn’t remember it later. An extra hard thrust from Tanner and Mitch couldn’t hold back a sharp cry. Please, god, let this be a dream, let it be something he wouldn’t remember in the morning.

Paul had taken his cock out and stroked it fast and brutally. With a detached bit of interest, Mitch wondered if it would bruise. Suddenly, Tanner pulled out of him and a relieved whimper escaped his throat. Let it be over. Anything to let it be over. But he knew it wasn’t over, in fact, he got the feeling it was only beginning.

The two men, Tanner and Richard, manipulated Mitch’s body so that he was on his hands and knees across the length of the bed, his ass extended towards Paul, who had stopped stroking himself and was staring at his penis with an offended look. While Mitch continued to look behind him in sick fascination, Tanner kissed Paul full on the mouth, drawing his attention away from his abused cock.

“Paul, love?” Paul stared at Tanner now, his large eyes were dilated and huge, his cheeks pink with lust. “Paul, I want you to fuck Mitch while I fuck you.”

Paul moaned and let Tanner help him up. Mitch shifted on the bed, planning to roll off and away. He didn’t want to be fucked again, he didn’t. He wanted it to stop. Richard, however, grabbed his elbows and lifted them, holding him half off the bed and stopping him from moving away. The older man looked at him sternly, saying only, “Stay,” before letting go.

Mitch closed his eyes as he felt hands gripping his hips and another cock searing into him. It felt bigger and it stretched him wider, went into him deeper. Mitch grit his teeth to keep back the pleas that were trying to break free. He wouldn’t beg them, he wouldn’t.

Suddenly, Richard gripped his jaw and made him look up at the actor, who was grinning maliciously. “You know what I want you to do?” Mitch shook his head dumbly, thinking was out of the question, the only thing he could really do right now was feel pain and humiliation. Richard’s fingers tightened. “I want you to open your mouth and suck my cock and you don’t want to know what’ll happen if I feel teeth.”

As Richard let go of his face and started to undo his trousers, Paul stopped moving behind him and Mitch heard him grunt and Tanner moan as Paul’s hips were pressed even tighter against his ass. He opened his mouth, having decided that he really had no pride left anyway, and maybe a little begging was in order, because it just hurt so much. Before he could say anything, however, the blood engorged head of Richard’s cock pushed between his lips and into his mouth, muffling his would-be protests.

The thing sliding into his mouth was even more disgusting than having his ass fucked, if less painful and Mitch pushed at it with his tongue, intent on getting it out. Richard moaned at the contact and put a hand on the back of Mitch’s head, pushing it down so that the head of his cock pressed into the back of Mitch’s throat. Frantically, Mitch put his hands on Richard’s thighs, trying to push back, but that only pushed him onto the cock driving into him from behind.

Richard gripped his hair and started to move his head up and down driving into the back of his throat with every thrust. Paul seemed to take that as his cue and began to pull out, only to be forced back in as Tanner pushed forward as well. They built up something of a rhythm and Mitch felt himself being jarred back and forth between the three lust-hungry men.

Then, things got worse. Paul shifted angles, just a fraction and Mitch felt his body light up, as if it were on fire. His cock stood to immediate attention and he moaned, the vibrations in his throat causing Richard to grind deeper. “Oh, god, do that again.”

Whether he was talking to Paul or to Mitch, it didn’t matter, because Paul didn’t seem inclined to stop. Every time that hated, hurtful cock brushed against that spot inside him, Mitch felt himself getting closer and closer to orgasm, until Paul reached around, stroking his cock and it crashed over him and he closed his eyes, tears falling down his cheeks as pleasure ripped through him, just as flair bright as the pain. Paul groaned as Mitch’s body tensed and he felt hot cum spilling into his raw insides. By the sounds that Tanner was making, he followed quickly. Richard shoved his cock down Mitch’s throat, holding it there while it contracted around his cock, desperate to drive out the invader and get fresh air into his lungs. Mitch was just starting to think he might be sick when Richard pulled back just enough for him to breath and shot his load down the back of the gasping throat.

They pulled out of him all at once and Mitch kept his eyes averted down, afraid to look at them, afraid that if he moved even that much he’d be sick all over the bed. He could taste the bitterness of Richard in his mouth and feel the sticky residue of Paul and Louis on his thighs and ass cheeks. It was disgusting, he’d never get clean of it, not after a hundred showers, not even if he ripped his skin off. The dirt was inside him.

A hand wrapped in his hair and a pulled him up, crushing his mouth against someone else’s. He didn’t even care who anymore. He couldn’t stop thinking that he’d gotten off on it. They’d raped him and he’d gotten off _three times_. Somehow he knew it was Richard’s tongue swirling around in his mouth, tasting the left over seed on his gums and under his tongue. The actor pulled away after nearly a minute, taking in Mitch’s dazed, expression and swollen lips. He looked proud of himself. “That’s my boy.”

It was disgusting. Mitch’s lip started to tremble. Oh, god, he was going to cry, really cry. Not just sob or weep because he was in pain, but outright cry. He could feel the hysteria building in his chest.

It was abruptly interrupted, however, as someone else grabbed his shoulders and turned him around into another kiss. It was someone new, someone he hadn’t kissed yet. For a moment, his mind went blank, but just as quickly, he knew. It was Mickey. He wrenched his mouth away, but only got out, “No...” before Mickey grabbed the back of his head, forcing him back into the kiss. He didn’t close his eyes, afraid that something would happen while he wasn’t looking. Paul and Tanner were still in the corner of the bed, now making out, grinding against each other, the rest of the room forgotten. Richard had scooted back, his gaze flipping between his two friends and Mitch in clear amusement.

Mickey let go of his head and looked up, catching Richard’s eye. “I want him to ride me.”

Mitch tried to push him away again. “Stop! Please, let go!”

Richard frowned at that and came forward, grabbing Mitch’s forearms. Between the two of them they manhandled him to straddle the Spaniard, ignoring his protests. “I don’t... please... let me go... just please sto...” He was cut off as Mickey grabbed hips in his hands and pulled him down over his cock with a satisfied moan. It was all he could do not to scream. Again. Every tear ripped wider and rawer and he leaned on Richard, because his legs had given out.

Louis, who had put his controller down in favor of watching his brother, suddenly stood up and leaned over Richard, biting his ear and whispering something in it. Mickey was too busy using Mitch’s hips to guide his body up and down on his cock to notice. Either that, or he didn’t care. Whatever the man said made Richard frown a little and the actor caught Mitch’s eyes while he spoke, as if sizing him up. “Not really sure that’s such a good idea, Louis. He’s in pretty rough shape already.”

“Come on, Rich, it’ll be fun and it’s not like he hasn’t done things before. We got him from Humps for god’s sake. He’s probably been passed around the bathroom more times than he can remember.”

Mitch was too scared to contradict that. He hadn’t even known the name of the club he’d been taken from. He’d gone to the strip, found a place that had good music and started drinking. Richard stared at the boy for several seconds before suddenly shrugged, pulling the teen forward with a grip on the back of his neck so that he was nearly laying flat against Mickey, “Go ahead.”

Louis kissed Richard on the mouth, slipping his tongue into the actor’s mouth for a second before pulling away and moving out of Mitch’s line of vision. Mitch thought he heard noise behind him, but he was too frightened to think about what the meant. Looking up at Richard with large, doe eyes, he asked, “What’s he doing?”

Richard’s only response was to squeeze his fingers tighter and Mitch struggled a little, trying to see behind him, but Richard’s grip prevented it and finally, he looked at Richard pleadingly. The dark haired man gave him what could have been a reassuring smile coming from anyone else. “Relax, Mitchell-dear, it’s almost over.”

Mickey shifted under him, the cock in his ass pulling at a strange angle and then there was something else pressing against his hole and nudging it open further, forcing it wider. It took him a moment to comprehend what was going on. The pain was beyond screaming, he just stared forward, eyes wide, mouth gaping for breath as he felt Louis’s cock press in next to Mickey’s, stretching him more.

It wasn’t possible. How could anyone...? But it was possible and now that he was in, Louis was moving and Mickey was moving too, although shorter jabs, while his brother was taking long strokes. Something in Mitch had the decency to be thankful the pain overrode any pleasure there might have been, because he didn’t want to cum again, but that part was overridden by the very desperate need for them to _stop_.

Breath invaded his lungs all at once and he screamed wordlessly, pulling himself towards Richard in an effort to get away from the invading cocks inside him. Even the insane actor was better than this. “Please!” He couldn’t disguise the desperation in his voice, didn’t want to. “Stop it, please!” He sobbed between words, tears pouring down his face, “Please? Please?! Oh, god!” It wasn’t helping, they weren’t stopping. He wanted to die.

Louis stilled inside him and then pulled out, apparently spent. Richard let go of one of Mitch’s hands and stroked his head, pulling him up into a kiss while Mickey fucked him hard, finishing himself off. Afterwards, Richard kicked Tanner and Paul off the bed, telling them they could fuck just as well on the floor, then he ushered Mitch under the covers and sat next to him, stroking the crying boy’s hair. “You did good, Mitchell-dear, get some rest.”

He didn’t want rest, but he wasn’t going to get what he did want, so he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the hand on him. Maybe when he woke up he’d be in bed at home and he’d never sneak out again.


	3. Chapter 3

Mitch woke to the sound of fading laughter and a door closing. For a moment, he didn’t remember where he was. The bed was too firm and he felt vaguely sick, like he had a hangover. He started to shift and his lower back and ass screamed in protest. He stilled as everything came painfully back to him. Richard Carter, the club, the drugged drink, the _party_. He clutched the pillow under his hand and curled into it, burying his face in the soft fibers as his throat closed and his mind went numb.

“Awake at last and here I was afraid I’d have to rouse you.” Richard sat next to him and Mitch closed his eyes tighter, trying to block out the sight of the still fully clothed man who had forced him to take drugs and suck his cock and fuck his friends. Mitch felt his stomach heave a little, but managed to push it down.

“Mitchell-dear?” Mitch forced his eyes open, looking up at Richard in what he hoped was a neutral expression. In truth, he was scared shitless. “I know you’re a little shocked by everything that’s going on, but I want you to know that I’d never hurt one of my boys. In a few months I’ll take you back to the club and you can go home. Until then, you should try and enjoy yourself. We’ll order whatever you want to eat, if there’s a movie or game you want to play, I’ll get that, too, you can even keep it when you leave. I’ll be your sugar-daddy.” He ruffled Mitch’s hair in affection and Mitch fought not to pull away. “But don’t even think about going to the authorities. My attorneys will make you out to be the University Campus Slut and my friends will vouch that you were here willingly.”

Mitch didn’t make a sound as Richard pried his fingers forcefully from the pillow and gripped his wrists, yanking him to his feet. “Now, we’re going to have to get you in the shower and washed up before...” His voiced trailed off and his grip on Mitch’s wrists relaxed some. “God damnit. Come on.”

Detached, he noted that Richard didn’t sounded more concerned and worried than angry and he looked back at the bed, noticing a good amount of blood staining the sheets where he’d been laying. Richard let go of one of his wrists and took his chin, forcing him to look away. “Into the bathroom.”

When the actor had been out that afternoon, Mitch had gone in the bathroom a few times, both to use it and to toss the contents of the drawers around, looking for anything that would help him escape. It was a good sized room with a standing shower and a Jacuzzi. A second door led to a toilet and the vanity had a black granite counter with two sinks set into it. The contents of the white cabinets and drawers had been overturned onto the floor earlier that afternoon and Richard kicked them out of the way as he dragged the still stunned boy towards the shower.

Mitch couldn’t think properly. The evening was replaying over and over in his head and it seemed so much worse now than it had then, not that he’d been pleased at the time, but at least the drug had made him pliant, made it hard for him to really fight or think. Vaguely he heard Richard turn on the tap and felt himself being shoved forward and into a spray of water.

With a shriek, he tried to push out again, but Richard crowded him back against a wall, not bothering to take off his own clothes, and shut the door. Mitch tried to fight against him, but every movement hurt him and as he stood there, soaking wet, it was so real all of a sudden. He clutched at Richard and buried his face in the wet shirt, desperate for some kind of comfort.

Richard hesitantly put his arms around Mitch and held him awkwardly. “Hey, are you okay?”

The realization of who he was holding onto hit him and he shoved back, taking Richard by surprise. Without the support, however, he fell down and screamed a little as his ass hit the floor. The water pouring into the drain was red with his blood and before he could stop it, Mitch’s stomach heaved and he vomited onto the tile floor.

“Shit!” Richard side stepped the mess and, fell to his knees. “Mitchell.”

A sob broke free and Mitch bit his tongue, closing his throat as the tears started to pour down his face. He didn’t want to cry, not in front of Richard, his rapist. He didn’t want to be that weak, but there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it. It was like a waterfall cascading down his face and as a second sob tore from his throat, he buried his face in his hands, letting them come, suddenly not caring that Richard was the one holding him, as long as he wasn’t alone.

At some point, Richard turned the water off and they sat on the floor, wet and cold in the little shower. Mitch cried so hard his chest hurt and Richard stroking wet hair in confusion, mumbling that it was okay, asking what was wrong, which only made it worse. Eventually the tears had run out, although Mitch still couldn’t bring himself to move. Even the smallest shift was a painful reminder of the evening’s events. Richard frowned down at him, “We should get dried off.”

Mitch shook his head, and held on tighter, hoping to stall having to leave the illusion of comfort. Richard sighed and kept stroking his hair. “Just a little while longer, then.”

 

 

*****

 

 

“...went into hysterics, I don’t even know.”

Mitch blearily opened his eyes and squinted at the bright light to see Richard, shoving DVD’s and games back on the shelves and talking into his cell phone in a hushed whisper.

“No, not like the others, I’ve never seen anything... exactly... no, Paul, would you lay off that, already?   Oh, and the sheets are absolutely ruined. Do you think you could pick some up for me today on your way over? I don’t want to leave him alone again just yet.”

Stiffly, Mitch sat up, unable to hold in the gasp at the sharp pain in his rear. Richard looked over at the sound and his face went from slightly annoyed to blank as he stared at the boy on his bed. Mitch quickly looked away, conscious that his head, chest and throat now hurt along with the rest of him. “Paul... Paul! I’ll call you back la.... okay, fine, just come over and don’t forget the sheets.”

He hung up the phone and walked over, sitting at the edge of the bed. Richard cast Mitch a winning smile, the kind reserved for the pretty girls he rescued in all his films. “Feeling better this morning?”

Tentatively, Mitch shook his head. If anything, he felt worse. There wasn’t a single muscle in his body that didn’t ache. Richard reached over and ruffled his hair. “Lay back down, Paul’ll be over with pain killers in ten minutes and I’ve got a lot of cleaning to do. Oh, do you want breakfast? Maybe some juice?”

When Mitch shook his head again, Richard shrugged and went back to what he’d been doing. “So, you don’t do that kind of thing often, do you?”

Mitch drew his brows together, still not sure he wanted to talk, but Richard got the message and chuckled lightheartedly. “Gang banging. Most of the boys at Humps’ll fuck anything that walks through the door and they’ll fuck as many as possible before they’re kicked out for the night. The way you bled.... well, I’m just guessing you were probably a bit new to the whole scene at Humps.”

It got quiet while Mitch contemplated what he wanted to say - if he wanted to say anything. Richard looked at the game in his hand for a second before tossing it in the trash, apparently deciding it wasn’t worth keeping. Finally, Mitch forced himself to speak, “I...” Richard looked back, seemingly surprised. For a moment, Mitch considered not continuing, but he’d already started. “I’d never.”

“Never...?” Then Richard’s eyes lit up in understanding and his eyebrows shot up his forehead, “ _Never_?!” Mitch shook his head, afraid to open his mouth again. “But you’re twenty-one. How can you have... well, never had _sex_ , especially going to Humps. I mean, people don’t go there unless they’re looking for a lot of quick meaningless fucking.”

Mitch shrugged and coward back under the quilts, drawing them over his naked body protectively. He didn’t know how to explain that he was fifteen and he’d only gone because it was his birthday and he’d just wanted to do something stupid. Stupid, right, like getting himself abducted by a psycho and his equally deranged friends. He just should have gotten a tattoo like Cynthia suggested.

Richard was still staring at him in shock when someone knocked on his door. If he was concerned about who it was, he didn’t show it. Instead, he opened it wide and Mitch’s frown deepened as he saw it was Paul, holding a set of plastic wrapped white sheets in one hand and a brown prescription bottle in the other. “I took my mom’s spares, she never uses them, but you’ll have to buy me another set so I can put them back.”

Richard kissed Paul on the mouth quickly and winked. “You’re a life saver. So, when’s your big date?”

Paul glanced at the bed, nervously eyeing the trembling figure huddled in the quilts. “Not till later. I told her I’d pick her up at nine.”

“Nine? Where are you taking her?”

“Restaurant, movie. I don’t know. I’m not very good at dating.”

Richard shrugged and tossed the unopened sheets on the bed before going back to cleaning the mess off his floor. “Think you can handle him while I finish this?”

Paul nodded and shoved the pills in his pocket before heading to the small fridge and pulling out a can of Coke. Every time he looked at the kid, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was looking at his kid brother. Not that he thought Mitch was anywhere near that young, but there was no way that ID was his, so he was probably under drinking age. Maybe eighteen. Eighteen wouldn’t be so bad. If anyone found out it would hurt Richard’s career, but it wouldn’t destroy it.

Holding the soda up, he popped it open and took a long gulp before handing it over to the kid. Richard’s boys were often afraid to take anything they hadn’t seen someone else drink from first. Probably due to the fact that they’d just been drugged and kidnapped, but either way it meant that if Paul wanted him to take the medicine, he’d have to take it first. Holding up the bottle, he opened it and emptied the four pills into his palm. Two were Tylenol 3 with codeine, the other two were just over the counter Tylenol.

Taking the two regular Tylenol, he put them in his mouth and swallowed them before holding out the remaining two pills for the boy. “Tylenol 3, you know what that is?”

Apparently he did, or maybe he just didn’t care, because he took it from Paul and downed them without further hesitation. Paul looked around the room at the clothes strewn on the floor near the closet. “Hey, Richard, you got something I can give the kid to wear?”

Richard shrugged and reached over, combing through the clothes on the floor next to him until he came up with a t-shirt, “Here, and there’s a pair of sweat pants on the top she... well, probably on the floor, actually.”

Paul couldn’t help laughing at the helpless dismay on Richard’s face over the disorganization of his room. Ever since they’d been little kids, Richard had been positively anal about keeping his things organized. He always kept his clothes hung on hangers or folded neatly on the top shelves of his closet. Of all the boys Richard had brought home, Mitch had done the most damage by far. Even Greg, the German tourist with a violent temper, hadn’t been this bad.

Rummaging through the pants on the floor just inside the closet, he found a pair of brown sweats and held them up, “Got them.” Richard had grown out of them years ago, but he usually kept a few articles of his outgrown clothes around just in case.

Mitch took them eagerly, pulling them on under the covers and then pulled the quilt tightly back over himself. Paul sat down, looking at him sideways. “Cold?” The kid shook his head, but didn’t look over. “Want to watch the something?” There was a brief moment of hesitation and then a shrug.

Paul took that as yes. “Richard, hand me the remote. You know, while you’re down there.” Richard grunted and tossed it over, too busy checking one of his discs for scratches to really care. “What should we watch?”

He flipped it on, watching the kid sitting next to him more than the television. Mitch’s face suddenly went sheet white and his knuckles tightened on the quilt. Paul looked over and felt the blood drain from his own face as he fumbled with the volume.

“...personal friends of this show for...”

Richard still wasn’t watching and Paul quickly hit the reverse button on the Tivo controller and let it rewind. “Richard.”

“Paul, I’m busy. I think he’s ruined Cruel Intentions.”

“Richard!”

“What?! I love that movie.”

He hit the play button and Richard looked over. “Why am I watching something about an old lady’s cat?”

Paul ignored the urge to hit his friend in the back of the head as the segment ended and went back to the news crew in the studio. “In other news, fifteen-year-old Mitchell Dearing went missing two days ago.”

Richard’s jaw dropped as they flashed a picture of Mitch in jeans a grey t-shirt, smiling at the camera with large, trusting eyes.

“Mitchell lived in the Temple City, just outside of Los Angeles with his parents and older brother.” His neighborhood came on screen, and the camera looked around at all the little houses before focusing in on his parent’s home, with its neatly trimmed yard. “Today would have been his fifteenth birthday. However, yesterday morning, his parents woke up to find his room empty and the window open.”

It moved to two adults standing in the front yard. A large man that was most likely Mitch’s father had an arm around a smallish woman while she spoke to the camera, visibly shaking with the effort not to cry. “We went to bed at eight and I got up at five, as usual. I didn’t see or hear anything suspicious, but when I went to get him up at six, he wasn’t in his room. I called his friends, but they... they haven’t heard from him. We just want to know that he’s okay.”

The camera cut off to a girl with bleach blond hair and faded blue highlights, standing outside of a red brick school. “We talked the other day and he said something about us going into town on the weekend to celebrate his birthday. He wanted to do something stupid, something that he’d regret later...” she sniffed, “I told him to get a tattoo of a butterfly on his ankle and he thought it sounded silly, but...” tears started falling down her face and her eyes shifted away from the camera for a moment. Another boy came on screen and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her away from the media.

They went back to the parents and Paul was struck with a vague sense of deja-vu. The father stood up, “We’ll be cooperating fully with the Temple City police. I have faith that my men can bring my son home safely.”

It went back to the reporter, a woman with tightly clipped blonde hair and a severe black suit, who seemed intent on shuffling papers around on her desk while she spoke. “The police have asked that anyone with information please call this number.” The picture of him came up on the corner of the screen, a phone number popped up bellow the anchor, who looked at the man sitting next to her. “Chief Dearing and his family have, of course, been very close, personal friends of this show for many years and we also will be cooperating in the search for their son.”

The man nodded, looking at the camera. “Again, here’s the number to call if you have any information. We’ll be covering the story until Mitch has been found and, if you’re watching, Mitch, hang in there. We’ll have you’re presents waiting when you get home.”

Beside him, he felt Mitch jerk a little, giving a muffled noise that sounded like something between a laugh and a cry. Paul was still staring at the screen when he saw Richard fly past him, backhanding Mitchell into the wall, “Motherfucker, what were you thinking?!”

Paul grabbed Richard around the shoulders as he drew back for another blow, “Stop it!” Richard yanked free and Mitch managed to cover his head just in time to avoid being punched in the ear. “Richard!” He pulled him back and turned him around, shoving his friend towards the door. “Run it off!”

“Fuck that, I’m going to kill the little shit.” Paul pushed Richard back when he advanced again and stood his ground, glaring back sternly. Finally, Richard gave a frustrated grunt and turned around, storming out the door and slamming it behind him.

Paul waited for several minutes, until he’d heard the footsteps descend the stairs outside, before finally turning back to the boy on the bed. Mitch was huddled in a silent ball, as if waiting for Paul to turn on him next.

With a deep breath, he went to the bed and pulled the boy up, ignoring the protests. “Come on, now, let’s have a look.”

Finally, he managed to get the kid sitting upright and pushed Mitch’s bangs out of his face. His nose was bleeding, but not broken. Thank god. Richard had done much worse than this with one blow and the last thing they needed was to have to call a doctor. In fact, they couldn’t afford to do that at all. Not now.

“It’s not bad. Could be worse.”

Mitch touched it tentatively and pulled his hand away, looking at the blood. “It hurts.”

“It’ll hurt less when the codeine kicks in.” He went into the bathroom, wet a rag and came back, softly dabbing the blood away from the swollen nose. “You know, I gathered you weren’t twenty-one, but I’d never thought you were as young as that. Barely fifteen. Oh, and you just had to be a police Chief’s son, didn’t you? Friends with the broadcaster of a news program on top of that.”

Mitch shook his head, “I didn’t mean to... my grandma’d already given me my birthday money, so I thought...”

He trailed off, apparently unable to continue and Paul sat back, staring at the paused television thoughtfully. “You thought it couldn’t hurt anything. God, what are we going to do? You know, usually Richard only keeps his boys for a few months, then lets them go with a few threats - he’s rich, he has the best attorneys and there are five of us willing to vouch for him, that kind of thing.”

“Five?”

Paul nodded, “You haven’t met Tanner’s boyfriend, Jessie. He’s out of town on business.” With an air of finality, Paul took out a cigarettes and lit it. “Richard’s going to kill me. I’m supposed to have quit these things.”

“Can I have one?”

He looked at the meek boy next to him in shock. “No, I’m not giving smokes to a fifteen-year-old.”

The boy’s cheeks went red. “If you don’t mind, it’s my birthday today and I was just _gang banged_ by five men last night, one of which was you, and I want a fucking cigarette!”

For a moment, Paul couldn’t think of anything to say. Kid was right. He’d fucked him the night before, giving him a cigarette really couldn’t hurt anything. “All right, fine, just... don’t make a habit of it.”

The outburst was unexpected but understandable. Paul vaguely remembered being fifteen, a freshman in high school with Richard; he’d been a bit of a volatile mess himself at times. Besides, Mitch was probably still in shock, most fifteen-years-olds didn’t go around having sex with five men in one night, hell, most fifteen-years-old didn’t go around having sex at all. The gravity of that thought hit him about the same time that Mitch started hacking on the cigarette smoke he’d just inhaled.

Patting Mitch’s back, he chuckled, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice. He couldn’t ask, it was too personal a question, but somehow he thought he knew. The way the boy had reacted to being touched in the club, the way he’d fought the affects of the drug, pulling away from hands and mouths that would have soothed the aching need. Mitchell Dearing had most likely been a virgin and he’d had that violently taken away from him but five men too doped out of their minds to care what he had to say about it. He cringed as an image of Mickey and Louis, stuffing both their cocks in the child’s ass came to him. Oh, bloody hell, they’d really messed up this time.

“Try not to inhale so much all at once.” Mitch nodded, seeming much more subdued all of a sudden, though his stiff posture indicated that he still didn’t want to be touched. Standing up, Paul stretched and pulled his keys out of his pocket, flipping through them until he found Richard’s spare. “I’m going to go talk to Richard. Watch whatever and smoke your cigarette, try not to burn anything.”

Mitch’s only response was to take another puff and stare at the anchor man still on the screen. Damnit. Richard was sitting at the foot of the steps, hair plastered to the back of his head with sweat. Good, that meant he’d actually gone running. It was a technique that a therapist had suggested to them once when they were in school. Richard had always been going into rages and the school counselor had advised him that next time he got angry he should ‘run it off.’ Really, it was a fancy way of saying he should step back and think about it. Sometimes Richard actually ran, sometimes he didn’t, but he always calmed down much faster when he did.

Paul sat next to him, ignoring how cramped the space was. “So, what do you think?”

Richard looked over and eyed the cigarette in Paul’s hand with distaste. “I thought we agreed you’d cut that out.”

“I just found out I fucked a fifteen-year-old last night while I was high on god-knows what. I’d say a cigarette’s in order.” Richard chuckled, which was a good sign, because it meant he’d calmed down enough to think. “Seriously, Richard, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking...” Richard kicked a step with his heal. “That I should have listened to you in the first place.”

“You were drunk and high, although that’s really not going to work in front of the judge, I suppose. Look, so far they don’t know anything. I say we let the kid go, send him home. I doubt he’ll tell anyone anything. Besides, there are bound to be witnesses that put him in the gay district last night and I don’t think he’ll want his parents knowing he was clubbing at Humps. His father’s the Chief of Police, I’m sure he knows what kind of reputation that place has.”

Richard took the half-finished cigarette from Paul’s hand and ground it under his shoe. “No, I’m not taking that chance. What if he does tell?”

“Then we let your attorneys work their magic, Richard. Considering where we picked him up and the fact that he had a fake ID on him, I doubt you’ll do more than a couple of months. No one’ll believe the kid was,” he looked around and lowered his voice, “raped. Especially with the four of us behind you. We’ll say he begged for it, that he wanted the drugs. It’s suspicious enough that he snuck out of his parent’s house. We can make it work.”

“No.” Richard stood and looked up at the door. “Go home, Paul, take a nap, get ready for your date tonight.”

“Don’t hurt him, Richard. He’s fifteen.”

Richard flashed him one of his winning smiles. “I never hurt my boys, Paul. You know that.”

 

 

*****

 

 

Cynthia sat nervously on the couch, her legs folded under her, and played with the ripped hem of her jeans.

When Mrs. Dearing had called her yesterday morning, asking about Mitch, she really hadn’t been all that concerned. While his parents may not have known about it, Mitch was prone to going out at night and sneaking back in just before his mother came to wake him up and Cynthia had simply assumed that he’d finally managed to stay out just a few minutes too long. She was glad, actually, maybe he’d stop doing it if his parents caught him. If there was one thing the Dearings were, it was strict and they weren’t likely to put up with Mitch going out clubbing at fifteen, especially without supervision.

When Mitch hadn’t shown up at school either, she’d been a little worried, but knew that he had probably made it home and was being yelled at by his parents. She could just see him sitting in the kitchen in his ‘clubbing gear,’ arms crossed stubbornly over his chest, determined not to listen to what they had to say. The only thing that bothered her was that Chief Dearing would have insisted Mitch go to school, no matter how angry they were with him, or how tired he was, especially if he was tired from being up all night after having snuck out. But then, of course, Mitch usually told her when he was planning to sneak out and he hadn’t said anything.

As soon as school let out, she’d gone to a payphone and called his house, determined to put her fears to rest. Instead, she’d had them confirmed. Mitch hadn’t come home yet and his mother said the window was open in his room. Mitch never left the window open. Since then, it had been absolute pandemonium at the Dearing’s home and Cynthia had refused to leave except to attend school and only that because Chief Dearing had kicked her out for those seven agonizing hours. She insisted on running errands, even if they were as simple as walking to the grocery store or picking up the dry cleaning, anything so that she could be there when Mitch came home.

Having just gotten back with food for the family and some of the officers, there was nothing to do at the moment and she had sat down in the living, not hungry, but unsure what to say or do. She still hadn’t said anything about the clubs, because it didn’t seem likely that was where he had gone, especially considering the window was open and he hadn’t said anything to her. Besides, it really wasn’t her secret to tell, because if she told them that she would have to tell them he was gay and his parents still didn’t know.

A knock at the door jarred her from her thoughts and she leapt up, calling, “I’ll get it!”

Before she could reach it, however, it opened and Ron Kipatrick stepped inside, still wearing the suit he’d had on when he did the news. “Hey, Cyn, where’s Henry?”

Cynthia motioned back towards the kitchen, not that it mattered, because Chief Dearing had already come around the corner. “Ron, it’s really good of you to come by. I saw the news this morning, you did great.”

Another officer, one Cynthia didn’t recognize, came running through the living room and out the door, holding his ringing cell phone like it was a ticking bomb. Ron just managed to sidestep him and he laughed half heartedly. “It’s like a zoo in here.”

Chief Dearing forced a smile. “I know. Amy’s having a fit. We just got the carpets replaced and there’s a ketchup stain in the dining room already.”

Ron had been a close friend of the family for as long as Cynthia had known them, which was most of her life, ever since she’d met Mitch in primary school. He’d only started his job as an anchor man a year ago, but his close ties to the Dearings had helped. It meant he had inside information, not that he ever let anything leak that would harm a case, he respected his friends too much to do that to them.

As far Cynthia was concerned, the Dearing family and their friends were some of the best people she had ever known. Chief Dearing’s job made decent money and Mrs. Dearing worked as a teacher to help make ends meet. They had scrimped and saved to buy a home in a moderately nice neighborhood, but it meant sending Mitch and his brother to public school, which was where she had met them.

For Cynthia, this was her home away from home. Her parents were divorced and she was forever flipping between her mother, who worked as an Administrator for a local Insurance Company and was about as nurturing as a calculator, and her father, who lived in a very small, expensive apartment in Los Angeles. She wasn’t sure what her father did, but he made a lot of money doing it and came home at all hours of the night. To be honest, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he were to get arrested, not that she would tell her mom about any of it, or she’d never be allowed to go to Los Angeles at all. At the Dearing’s she had a mother figure she could talk to about things, who actually listened, and a father figure who wasn’t likely to end up in jail. She also had a stable home and somewhere she could go to get real meals, ones that weren’t out of the microwave.

She went back to the couch and half listened to Ron and Chief Dearing talk about the case. They had found a footprint outside of Mitch’s bedroom, but it looked like it was his. There didn’t appear to be any clothes missing. Mitch’s bag was sitting next to the door, his homework hadn’t even been touched. There weren’t any signs that anything had been tampered with, the latch on Mitch’s window wasn’t broken. No ransom note or call as of yet. They hoped it wasn’t a vengeance thing, but with Chief Dearing’s job, it was a possibility they couldn’t ignore.

Cynthia frowned at her socks. It sounded like he’d just gone out. Maybe he had left. It wasn’t like him to be spontaneous, but maybe... maybe he’d opened the window, snuck out and someone had grabbed him before he could close it? The front door opened again and the officer who had stepped out came in, closing his phone with a confused expression on his face. “Henry, I need to talk to you outside.”

They stepped out and Cynthia considering putting her ear to the door, but Ron was still there. He sat next to her and gave her the one raised eyebrow look. “So, what haven’t you told them?” She turned to him sharply, too sharply, because he nodded. “Right. Is it important?”

Cynthia bit her lip and shook her head. “I don’t think so, I... well, I hope not.” Because if Mitch really had snuck out, there was no telling what had happened to him, or who to suspect. Cynthia had never gone with him, so she didn’t know where he went, or who he hung out with.

The door opened again, forcefully this time and Chief Dearing immediately came up to her, his shoulders squared and his face set in the kind of calm that she associated with his being really angry. “Cynthia, the night before last Mitch was seen in the clubbing district of Los Angeles, do you know anything about this?”

Ron’s eyes widened and he put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Easy, Henry, she’s fourteen.”

“And my son is fifteen! He had no business going into _Humps_.” Ron’s eyes went wide at the mention of the ill-reputed gay bar that housed some of the seediest of Los Angeles’ nightlife.

The commotion had caught the attention of Mrs. Dearing and Frank, who came in, looking at Chief Dearing for any sign of what was going on. Cynthia felt her chest tighten and her lip tremble, but she just managed to keep herself from crying. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was... he said he snuck out sometimes, but he never said where he went.”

Mrs. Dearing put down her dishtowel and pushed her angry husband away, sitting next to the girl. “What’s going on, Cynthia?”

“Mitch sometimes snuck out and went to the clubs in Los Angeles.” Her voice was so soft and meek it didn’t even sound like her.

Mrs. Dearing was visibly upset by the news, but not in the same way as Chief Dearing, who was red in the neck. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

She felt tears sliding down her checks and hastily wiped them away. “He always tells me when he’s going out! He says that way someone would know where he was, and he always shuts the window behind him, he told me he did that because he didn’t want a burglar getting in while he was gone. He didn’t say anything to me and you said the window was open, I didn’t think he could have possibly gone out... and he didn’t want you to know...”

“Know what, dear?”

Chief Dearing answered for her, “That he’s gay.”

The officer stepped forward, holding out a little pad of paper for Mrs. Dearing to see, “Last night the bouncer at Humps remembers letting him in. The man remembers because he said the kid looked so young he must have spent a good five minutes trying to figure out whether the ID was fake. He said the name on it was Frank Dearing”

Frank paled, “My license went missing three months ago.”

The officer nodded, “Yeah, he must have taken it. He’s been using it to get himself into clubs.”

Cynthia put her head in her hands and tried to stop herself from crying. She hadn’t thought it could possible be that, but it was. What had he been thinking? Why hadn’t she said something sooner.

Mrs. Dearing pulled her into her lap and Cynthia felt herself crying harder, thankful that the woman wasn’t mad at her. “It’s okay, Cynthia.”

“I... I’m sorry I didn’t... didn’t tell you. He just... he didn’t want you to know and...”

Mrs. Dearing sighed, “It’s all right, but we need you tell us everything now, okay.”

She nodded and sat up, wiping her nose with the back of her sweater. She’d tell them everything she knew, even if it wasn’t much, and hopefully they’d find Mitch.


	4. Chapter 4

Of the two, Mitch preferred Paul. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was because Paul had tried to get him to go away that night at the club, or because Paul didn’t want to take the drugs during the party, but either way, he felt like he could relax around Paul, he could let his guard down. There was no relaxing when Richard was around.

That afternoon Richard had come back upstairs and taken the cigarette away from Mitch, who had wanted to pout about it, but had been too busy nursing his bleeding lip because Richard had backhanded him again, this time for taking up such a disgusting habit. At least the codeine had already hit and he couldn’t really feel it. Richard had gotten on the computer for a while, and Mitch had tried to watch television, but he wanted to watch the news to see if they said anything else and Richard made him change the channel, threatening to put child locks on every station if he didn’t do it.

So, instead of the news, he watched Cartoon Network, trying to lose himself in the dumbed down humor of Ed, Edd, and Eddie. Richard didn’t seem to like that, either, but he didn’t make him change it, so Mitch curled up on the bed and tried to ignore his growling stomach. Two episodes later and the Grim Adventure of Billy and Mandy came on. Richard closed his lap top and leaned back, staring at the screen critically. “How can you watch this shit?”

Mitch shrugged. “It’s funny.”

“I haven’t heard you laugh once.”

“I’m not really in the mood to laugh. It’s still funny, though.”

Richard raised an eyebrow and came over, sitting on the bed next to him. Mitch made himself sit still as the actor checked his forehead. “You’re not running a fever.” Mitch’s stomach let out a particularly loud growled and he pulled his knees up to his chest. Richard’s face lit up knowingly. “Oh, that’s it. You didn’t eat anything yesterday, did you?”

Hesitantly, Mitch shook his head.

“What you do want to eat?”

Mitch shrugged. He wasn’t really hungry. In fact, he felt as if he were going to be sick.

“Hm, how about pizza? You eat meat?”

“I...” He bit his lip, realizing that the thought of pizza really wasn’t as unappealing as he had first thought it was. His parents rarely ordered out. “I kind of like Canadian bacon and pineapple.”

“Done!”

Richard grabbed his cell phone off the desk and stepped out the door to order the pizza. Mitch stood up and went to the computer, lifting the lid experimentally. He hadn’t really expected it to be on, but he’d hoped. Unfortunately, Richard was too careful. He’d logged off while Mitch wasn’t paying attention. Getting up, the boy went back to the bed and laid down again, making sure that he was in the same place, and then drew his knees back up to his chest. He’d just have to bide his time is all. Richard wasn’t perfect, he’d make a mistake.

The codeine was making him light headed and he blinked at the screen, trying to stay awake. Richard came back in and set the phone down, eyeing him on the bed thoughtfully. “You know, I don’t think you had a proper bath yesterday. We’ve got maybe twenty minutes, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Despite his lethargy, or more likely because of it, he didn’t fight Richard and let him lead him into the bathroom, undress them both and then stood by complacently while Richard started the shower. The water felt weird, because he was having trouble feeling it properly. He knew it was hot, but he wasn’t really sure if it was too hot and he didn’t really care. Richard lathered him with his hands and as much as Mitch didn’t want him to touch him, he was too tired to pull away, even when one of the soapy fingers slid between his ass cheeks, massaging and then pushing into the abused entrance.

It probably stung, but Mitch only felt the mild discomfort of pressure and he keened a little, hoping that would deter the man from touching him more than he had to. The finger moved away and Richard stood up and gripped his hips, forcing him to turn around. Mitch put his head against the cool tile, forcing back tears as the soft pressure he’d felt earlier became the more intense pressure and then the stinging pain of a cock pushing into him. Richard hadn’t bothered to fuck him the night before, seemingly content with being sucked off, and Mitch was grateful to Paul for the codeine, because if it hurt this much with drugs, Mitch didn’t want to even imagine what it was like without them.

Richard put his hand over Mitch’s where they were clenched against the tile and slowly fucked him, moaning in an obscene way that reminded Mitch of the few sex scenes Richard had done with girls in his movies. Those were always about love, or intense pleasure and Mitch didn’t want to think that this was about anything other than someone using him to get off, but he couldn’t help feeling ashamed when his cock started to react.

Logically, he knew what it was. Cynthia had always been a wealth of knowledge on sex, because her father kept books on it sitting around his apartment; books on how men and women had sex, books on how women have sex with other women, and even a few on men having sex with men. Mitch had jokingly said the man was obsessed, but they had talked about all the things Cynthia read anyway, because it made them feel more adult to know those things. So, he knew that his body was reacting to pressure being applied to his prostate. He knew that was what Paul had done the night before and even though he couldn’t really feel it now, he knew that was what Richard was doing, but that didn’t make it any easier. Especially when Richard wrapped a hand around his cock and pulled him off. A few quick thrusts and Richard stilled, emptying himself inside Mitch, grunting and moaning lewdly.

Afterwards, he was careful to clean Mitch, inside and out, touching him with soft, tentative hands like he was washing a lover or a willing partner. Mitch didn’t care. He wanted his pizza and he wanted to go to sleep so that he could forget everything, even if only for a few short hours.

 

 

*****

 

 

Mitch woke the next morning to find himself alone of the bed with a note in front of him and two pills. He looked at the pills and recognized them as more Tylenol 3, which was good, because the pain in his ass was so intense he felt lightheaded. Taking the pills, he swallowed them dry and then picked up the note, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes so he could read it.

 

_Mitch,_

_I have a meeting with my manager. Take the medicine and have a bath, Paul will be by later to look in on you._

_Richard_

He sighed and put it back down, burying his head in the pillow while he waited for the pills to kick in. Richard had fucked him again before going to bed, holding Mitch’s face in the pillow to muffle his screaming, because the medicine was wearing off and he could feel every tug and tear inside his over sensitive ass. He knew he’d bled on the sheets again, had known when he’d been going to sleep and he could feel the fluid leaking down his thighs.

When the first feelings of numbness began to spread, he pushed himself up and fought a wave of nausea until he was in front of the toilet. He’d just managed to choke up the last of his dinner and had fallen limply to the floor when he heard a key turn in the lock. Numbly, Mitch reached behind himself and flushed the toilet, letting the foul smell drain away as Paul came through the door. If he’d had the energy he would have rushed him and tried to make it out the door, but his legs were too weak, he was surprised he’d made it to the bathroom before collapsing. Besides, Paul was like Richard in that he was far too strong for Mitch to muscle his way past.

He must have made some kind of noise, because Paul looked over sharply and let out a curse word when he saw him, sitting on the bathroom floor. He rushed over and Mitch tried to push himself away, but his feet just slipped on the tile. Paul knelt down and looked at him, as if trying to find somewhere to touch him, or taking a catalogue of his body. Finally, he reached a hand out and touched Mitch’s cheek, where the two bruises from the previous day had nearly melded into one. “He hit you again, didn’t he?”

“For smoking.” It was easier to talk to Paul. Paul exuded a calm concern and the more time he spent with him, the less he thought of Paul as insane as opposed to maybe just a little disturbed or confused.

Paul cringed, “We’ll have to keep that quiet from now on then, won’t we?”

Mitch started to smile, but his face hurt too much and it came out as more a lopsided grimace. “I’m supposed to have a bath.”

“Did you get the pills?”

He nodded and stuck his out tongue flat, as if that proved something. Paul grinned, “Okay, then, why don’t I draw some bath water and...” He trailed off, looking down and Mitch followed his gaze to the smear of blood on the white tile under his ass.

“I’m sorry.” Tile didn’t stain, did it?

Paul looked at him sharply, all traced of humor, forced or otherwise, gone. Without saying anything, he stood up and pulled out his cell phone, dialing his home number. He glanced over at the boy on the floor, waxen and shaking and appearing for all the world as if he didn’t know it. Oh, bloody hell, Richard had gone too far this time. He was just thankful that his father was a doctor or they’d all be screwed.

“Gerring residence.”

“Father!” He took a breath, forcing himself to sound calm and stepped out of the bathroom in case Mitch got it in his head to scream. Not that he thought the kid was in any shape to try anything, but it was better to be safe. “The guys went out to the clubs the other night and Richard brought home a trick.”

“You went with him, didn’t you?” Paul cringed, but didn’t respond. “I’ve told you before, I don’t like you hanging out with Richard. I don’t approve of the kinds of things he does. Every since primary school he has dragged you into...”

“I know, dad, I know. He’s a horrible influence, but I am twenty-five.” His father sighed and Paul took the moment of silence to re-gear the conversation, “Look, I didn’t call you to get yelled at. Richard brought home a trick and they got pretty rough last night. As in, the guy’s bleeding.”

There was a pause on the other end and Paul bit his lip, hoping his father wouldn’t ask to see Mitch for an evaluation. “How badly?”

Paul glanced back in the restroom and saw Mitch still sitting on the floor where he’d left him. He’d stopped shaking, which was a good sign, “He’s not gushing or anything, but he’s pale and he threw up.”

“Give him some of your Tylenol and get some food into him. A warm bath couldn’t hurt, either. I’ll bring home some pills tonight to stimulate blood production, but no more roughhousing for a few days at least and, Paul?”

“Yes?”

“Next time they go out, you come home. One of these days, he’s going to do something that’ll land you all in jail.”

Paul nodded, “Sure thing, thanks.”

He hung up the phone and set it on the desk, rubbing his temple for a few minutes. He’d have to yell at Richard later, right now he needed to get Mitch in the bath and get him scrubbed off, then see about filching some food from the main house. When he came back in the bathroom, the kid was still sitting on the floor, but with his head resting against the cool porcelain lid of the toilet. Mitch didn’t put up any kind of a fight over the bath. He let Paul help him in and then set about scrubbing himself with unsteady hands. As much as Paul wanted to just do it himself, he got the feeling that Mitch wouldn’t appreciate anyone touching him more than necessary. So instead, he sat back on the toilet seat and tried to think about what he was going to do.

He loved Richard like a brother, maybe more, but he hated what Richard did sometimes. Like the stupid drugs. Paul didn’t mind drinking, but he didn’t like doing drugs because they clouded his judgment and made him do stupid things, like fucking a  fifteen-year-old. Well, that and they made him a lot less wary of Tanner.

Tanner’d had a crush on Paul since he joined them in grade school, following him around and trying to impress him with stupid stunts. Problem was that even back then Tanner was vicious. Impressing Paul was putting thumb tacks on the professor’s chair when she gave Paul a bad grade, or finding a dead animal. Paul had taken an instant dislike to the psychotic boy that insisted on sitting next to him in class, but Richard hadn’t. Richard had liked Tanner, for whatever reason, and eventually Paul had given in, but then, he’d always given in where Richard was concerned.

He took a cigarette out of his pack and lit it, trying to ignore the sound of sloshing water to his right and the fact that his hand was shaking. He took a deep breath of nicotine and stared at the tile, still caught up in reminiscing while Mitch lathered his hair, using his nails to scratch the soap into his scalp.

Tanner had been sent back to England just before the start of freshman year - he’d been caught killing a squirrel by one of his nurse maids and after that, no one would watch him, so his parents were forced to send him to live with relatives overseas - and hadn’t returned until after they had graduated. Paul had been glad, it was just him and Richard again and if Richard had changed, he didn’t notice it. Sometime between then and when Tanner reappeared into their lives, Paul realized he liked Richard. He didn’t like any of the other boys, in fact, he had a great fondness for breasts overall, but Richard wasn’t like anyone Paul had ever known. For Richard, the rules never applied, he always got what he wanted, and he got away with everything he did without so much as a scratch on him.

Junior year, Richard announced he was going to be an actor. Three months later he had a part in a stage drama. It had been a small role, but it was a starting point for him and soon he was getting offers from agents for representation and offers for other, bigger parts in high budget movies. For Richard, nothing was unattainable and no matter where he went, he always dragged Paul with him. He forced Paul into acting with him, sometimes smaller parts, sometimes as an extra, and once a leading roll as a sidekick. Paul had always been in Richard’s shadow, always doing what Richard wanted, but he’d always been fine with that. He loved Richard, after all, so it was okay.

When Tanner had come back, Paul had hoped that Richard wouldn’t want to hang out with him, but when it was apparent that he did, Paul hoped that Tanner’s crush on him had at the least abated. It hadn’t, if anything it had gotten stronger. Only now, Richard and Tanner wanted to experiment with drugs and Richard wanted Paul to do them too. If it had been anyone else asking him, Paul would have said no, but it was Richard, with his dazzling blue eyes and heart stopping grin and that one raised eyebrow that made it seem like he was begging.

Paul remembered the night so vividly, sitting on the floor in Richard room, when it was still in his parent’s house, trying to ignore the colors that were floating in front of his face. Tanner had started kissing his throat and he’d wanted to tell him to stop, but Richard had smiled at him and started rubbing himself through his pants and Paul couldn’t manage anything other than staring, not even when Tanner had started to suck him off.

He’d regretted it later, of course, but that hadn’t changed the fact that Tanner had finally gotten what he wanted and that Richard had liked watching it. There had been a time when they were doing one drug or another more than once a week and Paul had been afraid that they would fall into addiction or, worse, get caught. Instead, Richard found something better than drugs. He found his boys.

“I’m done.”

Paul nearly choked on the cigarette smoke, gasping as the unexpected voice interrupted his thoughts. Mitch was still sitting in the water, watching Paul apprehensively. The man had been sitting with a glazed expression for the past twenty minutes. He wondered if maybe it didn’t have to do with all the narcotics he’d done. Maybe he’d been having a flashback of something. His father had said that sometimes happened with people who did LSD.

After a moment, Paul started, as if suddenly realizing something and stood up, getting a towel out from under the sink and tossing it to Mitch, who caught it before it hit the water. As he stood up, wrapping it around himself, he cringed at the pale red tint of the water. He didn’t think he was still bleeding that badly, but apparently, it had been enough. Paul, seemed to notice as well. “Kid, are you still bleeding from the party?”

Mitch wanted to say ‘yes,’ maybe Paul would take him to a hospital and he’d have half a chance of getting home, but he didn’t have it in him to lie and the answer, “No,” had slipped past his lips before he’d realized it.

Paul looked at him quizzically, “Why are you bleeding then?”   Mitch blushed and understanding dawned on Paul’s face just before anger swept it away. “He fucked you again, didn’t he?”

Mitch nodded and Paul seethed, “How many times?”

With a shaking hand, Mitch held up two fingers and Paul cursed heavily, dropping his grip on Mitch’s shoulders and storming out into the room. For a second, Mitch thought Paul was angry at him and, why not, they were all insane anyway? Maybe it was his fault. Maybe he had been asking for it.

“Richard, where the hell are you?”

Mitch stepped into the room and saw Paul standing next to the bed, his back to the bathroom, holding his cell phone.

“The kid’s bleeding again, Richard. Yes, he ruined the sheets, but that is not why I’m calling you. Richard, there are more important things than sheets, you’re a fucking millionaire living on your parent’s estate, you can afford new sheets! This is about you keeping your fucking cock in your pants for five fucking minutes!” Mitch backed up a step, shocked. “You do damned well know what I mean. Two times, Richard? He’s fifteen-years-old and you can’t keep your fucking hands off him long enough to...?”

There was a long pause and Paul sighed. “No, Richard. No. I already did that, he said he’d give me something tonight, but you... Don’t start with me, I am fucking pissed right now and you can... A week, at least, but...” The tension in Paul’s shoulder’s drained and he leaned forward, resting his head against the wall. “You promise, Richard? I still think you should take him home. No. In the end it _is_ your decision, but he’s fift... I know I keep saying that, but it’s kind of an important point. Fine, if you promise and no more drugs until then. Okay. Yeah, I’ll see you when you get back.”

Mitch felt his heart hammering in his chest. Paul wanted Richard to take him home. “Paul?”

Paul’s head jerked around and he shut his mouth quickly, unsure what to say anymore. It hadn’t sounded like Richard had agreed, but the fact that Paul didn’t want to keep him there... well, it was something and that was more than Mitch had thought he’d had up until then.

For a moment, Paul couldn’t think what to say either. Mitch’s eyes were wide and bright and shining in the light that was pouring in from the window. There was hope there and Paul couldn’t let it fester for too long. Richard wasn’t going to let Mitch go until he was ready, he’d made that abundantly clear. Giving the boy a tired smile, he held up the phone in surrender. “And that, my dear Mitch, is how Richard Carter gets away with murder.”

The blood drained from the boy’s face, his eyes going wider and he swayed on his feet. Paul realized what he’d said and rushed over, apologizing frantically as he helped Mitch onto the bed. “No, no, no, not like that. Come on, don’t faint.” Mitch was practically hyperventilating. “Come on, breathe. It was a figure of speech. I didn’t mean it like that. Richard’s never killed any of his boys. I promise.” Paul felt the guilty voice in his head toning in that Richard had never hurt any of them before either. Duncan, Greg, Andrew, none of them had had so much as a scratch that wasn’t self inflicted and Mitch... he fought not to touch the split lip and bruised cheek.

“Please believe me?” Mitch looked at him finally, his pale hazel eyes full of hope. That was good, it meant he wanted to believe it.   “There you go.”

Paul forced a smile on his face. “The longest he’s kept anyone is three months, usually it’s less. You can handle three months, right?” Mitch sobbed a little, but nodded and sniffed, trying to gather himself. The color still hadn’t returned to his face, but he didn’t look like he was going to fold over any second. “I know it sounds like a long time, but it really isn’t. It’ll be over before you know it. Think of it as an early summer break, yeah?”

After several more shaky sobs, the boy appeared to get himself under control, though he refused to look up again. Paul heard him mumble something and bent forward, “Say again?”

“How many?”

“Oh.” He sat back and thought, “Uh... seven, well, you’re eight. It’s about one a year, two this year, though.” He refrained from saying that he thought it was getting worse, because he knew it was, but that wasn’t going to help Mitch any. What would help him was reassurance that everything was going to be okay. The calmer he was the better Richard could handle him, because Richard, who had never been a very hormonal child, would not be able to handle a hysterical fifteen-year-old boy who thought he was facing his murderer every day.

Mitch bit his lip, head down, “He let them all go?”

He breathing was almost normal now, thank god. “Yes, every single one. Duncan McGowan, he was a twenty-one year old art major, Richard was only twenty, but Duncan was much smaller. He let him go after only two months. Next was a German tourist named Greg, he kept him for nearly three months, let him cancel his plane tickets online and write a letter to his parents to say he was staying longer, so it wouldn’t look suspicious. But after that, he flew him home.”

Mitch took a shaky breath. “Do you think he’d let me write a letter?”

Paul smirked. He was a smart kid, to have enough sense about him to think of that when he was still just getting over his hysterics. “Now, how would that look? ‘Dear Mom and Dad, I’ve shacked up with a guy, so don’t bother looking for me.’ You’re fifteen, they’ll double their efforts.” Mitch’s shoulder’s rose stiffly. “You’re not going anywhere for the next few months, so you might as well make the best of it.”

Mitch pushed away as Paul sat on the bed next to him and finally looked up, sending seething glares at the other man, “The best of it? I’ve been kidnapped by a man who likes to throw rape parties for all his friends with me as the goddamned center piece. Explain the bright side. I’m just dying to hear it.”

Paul couldn’t hold back the chuckle at the unintentional pun and Mitch’s face flushed in anger. “Look, don’t get mad at me, okay? Richard said he’d lay off you for a week or more, whatever it took to let you heal up. He buys things for his boys. Give it a day or two and he’ll plug you in and let you buy anything you want, movies, games, clothes. Anything.”

“So, I’m his unwilling rent boy?”

“Pretty much.” Paul continued to smile as Mitch looked at his knees and said something that sounded like ‘fucking fantastic.’ “The time’s going to fly by, Mitch, trust me.”

 

 

*****

 

 

Cynthia sat in class, tapping her pen against her teeth and pointedly ignoring her Latin teacher. Mitch had been missing for two weeks and there was still no sign of him. There had been a myriad of useless tips from people who had seen him in Los Angeles the night of his disappearance, and one or two that said they’d seen him in Humps a few times, but no one seemed to have seen who he went home with. Well, one person said he saw Mitch dancing with two men, one of which kind of looked like the actor Richard Carter, but if that the best description he could give, it was useless.

The police had sent officers over to Humps to ask questions, but most of the people there were so drunk they couldn’t remember what they’d done in the past five minutes, let alone who they met two weeks ago. It was frustrating and to top it off, Ron had announced that the network was going to cut back coverage on Mitch’s disappearance to four days a week. He’d tried to get them to keep up the daily broadcasts, but his producers had said they had other things they needed to focus on.

She raised her hand and her Professor sighed, annoyed at having been cut off in mid sentence. “Yes, Cynthia?”

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

He waved her off and she stood up, walking out of the room briskly. What she needed was a plan, because she couldn’t very well just sit back and do nothing. Mitch was her best friend and he would have looked for her. She marched into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror staring at herself. The blue in her hair was almost completely washed out, not to mention her roots were starting to show. With a sigh, she turned on the tap and splashed water on her face, letting the cold chill run down her spine.

As she closed her eyes and tried to think, two girls walked in, talking in hushed tones. “We can’t get in there, we aren’t even eighteen yet.”

“We can, my sister knows a guy. He’ll get us fake...”

They stopped and Cynthia opened her eyes and saw them staring at her. This had been going on since the whole affair with Mitch. Everyone seemed to clam up in her presence. Even professors let her leave or skip class without saying anything. They were treating her like a fragile egg that was going to burst at any moment and why not? She really might just crack if she didn’t think of something soon. Shaking her head, she splashed more water on her face. “Don’t mind me.”

They turned around to walk off, whispering to each other again, but this time with their voices too low for her to make out. They were probably talking about how unstable she was anyway. Stupid stuck up bitches always shoving their noses into things that weren’t their business in the first place. If they weren’t going to associate with her, the least they could do was ignore her entirely and go about their conversation as if she wasn’t there. Their stupid, pointless conversation about going places they were too young to...

Then it hit her. “Hey, wait!”

 

 

*****

 

 

‘Lay off him’ apparently meant that Richard wouldn’t force him into anal intercourse, but there were a variety of other things that Mitch could do that didn’t involve having his ass penetrated - blow jobs, hand jobs, something Richard called frottage. He’d thought about complaining to Paul, because it was becoming more and more apparent that Paul didn’t know Richard as well as he thought he did, but the problem was that Mitch had gotten off on a lot of it and he felt strange complaining about something that had, in some twisted way, felt good.

Currently, Richard was on the computer talking to someone, laughing occasionally and Mitch was laying in the pillows on the bed, watching a television series that Richard had bought for him, ‘Dead Like Me.’ It was funny in a dark sort of way, but Mitch had been feeling dark lately, so that was okay. A particularly boisterous laugh from the computer nearly made Mitch jump, but he just managed to reign himself in. God, he couldn’t concentrate on what was going on, he’d have to watch it again later.

So far Richard had bought him the entire series of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ , Season One of _Dead Like Me_ , and all of _Roswell_. He already owned the entire set of _Queer as Folk_ , both the British and the American versions, but he’d said that if Mitch liked them, he could have them. He’d also ordered Mitch some basic clothing: A few pairs of boxers, t-shirts and some pajama pants for him to wear around the room. He wouldn’t buy any trousers, because he maintained that Mitch wasn’t going outside, therefore he didn’t need them.

The laptop snapped shut and Mitch’s eyes shifted to Richard, who had turned in his chair to watch him. “I have to go. My manager wants to meet so he can yell at me about the latest bad publicity. I’ll be back in a few.”

Without another word, Richard grabbed his jacket off the chair and left, locking the door behind him. Holding his breath, Mitch listened for the sound of footsteps going down the stairs and then heard the rumble of the car starting. It softened to a purr and he followed it with his eyes, as if he could see through the floor as it backed out and down the drive. It wasn’t uncommon for Richard to leave suddenly and Mitch did occasionally wonder if it was really because he had something to do or if he just wanted to get out for a while. Not that it mattered, because it was at these times that he had the opportunity to watch the news.

They were talking about the weather and Mitch sat up, wrapping the quilts around himself protectively as he waited. Thirty minutes later, he turned off the television in shock. They hadn’t mentioned him. Not one word. For the past two weeks not a single day had gone by without at least a flash of his picture with the number and a word from Ron, but today they hadn’t said anything. This was worse than when they announced he’d been seen at Humps. Not that he’d been in the closet or anything, but he’d only ever told his closest friends that he was gay. Now the entire State of California knew.

He frowned and his eyes watered. Were they giving up? They couldn’t, it had only been two weeks. He was still stuck in this place with that man that insisted on pretending they were lovers. He was still being raped almost daily and the thought that they weren’t even looking for him... He wiped the tears off his cheek with the back of his hand and turned the DVD player back on, not really watching what was going on.

His father wouldn’t give up, he just wouldn’t. An evil voice that sounded remarkably like Richard whispered in the back of his mind, ‘even if he found out you were gay?’ He shook his head to clear the thought. Why hadn’t he told his parents? Why hadn’t he just come clean? Now his parents knew and they probably thought he was some kind of slut, considering he was going to Humps.

Sniffing, he felt his chin shake and buried his head in the pillows to cry. It wasn’t fair, he didn’t want to be here, but it was his fault and maybe he deserved it. Maybe this was the price you paid for lying to the people who loved you the most.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid on the bed crying. It seemed that he was doing a lot of that lately, more than he ever had before and he wondered if it made him weak or just more of a kid then the already was. The lock clicked open and he looked up, watching as Paul came in the room and shut the door, keying in the alarm behind him.

Mitch sat up, hastily trying to wipe the traces of his tears from his face, even if he knew it wouldn’t do any good. Of all Richard’s friends, Paul was the most normal. He was also the one that Mitch had the most contact with. Since the party he hadn’t seen Tanner at all and had only seen Mickey and Louis once when they’d come to play games and discuss a movie Richard wanted them to be extras on, some action film or another about an Arab Czar. He had jokingly mentioned Mitch playing in the harem, ruffling the kid’s hair before turning away and going back to detailing what he knew of the project to his friends.

“Hey, Mitch, I brought you some stuff to cheer you up!” He stopped as he entered the room and Mitch saw that he was holding a large paper bag from the Gap. Its bottom was sagging, but Paul was holding it like it weighed nothing. The older man set down the bag and went to the bed, careful to sit a few feet away. “Have you been crying again?”

Mitch started to say no, but a hiccup caught the word and he shut his mouth. Paul chuckled and looked at his sideways. “What did Richard say this time?”

Numbly, Mitch shook his head. Compared to this, crying over something Richard had said seemed childish and stupid. “I...” Could he really tell Paul? If he did, would Paul tell Richard? Would he get into trouble for watching the news? “Nothing.”

“Not nothing, come on. Did you do something you weren’t supposed to?” Mitch felt himself going pale and Paul nodded, “I’m not your nanny, Mitch. I’m here to keep you company, not tattle on you. If Richard can’t figure out on his own when you’re doing something wrong, then he doesn’t deserve to know.”

After several seconds thinking it over, Mitch sighed. “I was watching the news.”

“Ah.” Paul leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and looked at the television thoughtfully, “The anchorman say something, then?”

Mitch shook his head, “He didn’t say anything.”

Paul felt his pulse start to race and closed his eyes, taking a controlling breath. This was good, right? It meant that Mitch would forget about rescue or escape and just sit back and try to make the best of the next few months, maybe even stop crying almost daily, but when Paul turned his head to tell Mitch just that, there was something in the desperation on the kid’s face that stopped him. He was only fifteen and he thought his family had abandoned him to his rapist. Fuck it.

“Come on, Mitch, you know them better than that. Your father is the Chief of Police. He wouldn’t stop looking for you.” Mitch’s face brightened, only a little, but it was something and Paul reached over, wrapping an arm around the kid and pulling him into a hug. “They’re looking for you. Just because they can’t say it on the news doesn’t mean they’ve stopped.”

The tension in Mitch’s body made it feel like Paul was hugging a statue, but he didn’t let up, not until he felt some of that bleed away and the boy becoming more relaxed at the contact. “Now, do you want to see what I’ve brought you?”

Mitch nodded into his chest and Paul stood up, grabbing the bag from beside the door and bringing it over to the bed. “Remember the other day when you were complaining about getting behind in your school work?”

“Yeah.” Mitch felt the smile on creep onto his face as he imagined what Cynthia would say when she found out he had been complaining about not having homework. She might just die of shock.

“Well, my little brother’s a year ahead of you, so I snuck out his old school books for you.” Paul pulled out five books, one at a time and set them all on Mitch’s lap. “There’s math, English, Latin, chemistry, and something on art. I don’t know if you’re into art or not, but it’s something to pass the time.”

Mitch stared down at them. They weren’t the same as his books, but they were something to read if he wanted to. Of course, he hadn’t yet, but he figured that eventually he’d get tired of watching television all day and now he had something to do otherwise. “Thank you.”

Paul smiled and Mitch ducked his head shyly. “Don’t mention it. I also brought you these.”

Mitch looked up and saw a pair of folded jeans in Paul’s arms. “What...?”

“I know, Richard usually makes his boys run around in night clothes all day. When he goes to take you home, he’ll make you put back on the clothes he picked you up in. Thing is... well, I just figured that seeing as you’re parents only recently found out you were even gay, you wouldn’t want to show up wearing bondage pants and a fish net shirt. Maybe that’s just me, but...”

He was cut off as Mitch hugged him. Paul didn’t move for a minute, just stared down in shock at the mussed up sandy colored hair under his chin and pale arms wrapped around his torso. Finally, he managed to put his arms around Mitch. The boy looked up at him and Paul saw he was near crying again. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Paul tried to force out a laugh, but couldn’t. The pain and desperation in the kid’s face was heart stopping. It spoke volumes and Paul wondered how he could let this keep going for another few weeks, let alone months. “Don’t mention it. Let’s play some games, okay?”

Mitch nodded happily and Paul saw him smile genuinely for the first time since the night at the club. He was struck by how mesmerizing it was. It made him want to kiss Mitch and that wasn’t good, because Mitch was only fifteen. You didn’t go around kissing fifteen-year-olds just because they smiled at you. Of course, you didn’t go around fucking them, either, but Paul had resolved that wouldn’t happen again if he could help it. He’d just have to resist next time Richard tried to get him to take drugs.

Finally he settled on kissing the top of Mitch’s head and trying to ignore the shock on the kid’s face at the display of affection. He’d make sure Mitch got home safe, just as soon as he could convince Richard.


	5. Chapter 5

“Paul, wake up.”

Paul groaned and turned over, burying his head in his pillow.

“Come on, I know you’re awake.”

It was Richard again and he was probably just trying to get him out of bed so they could sneak out and rig pranks for old Professor Beirs again. “No, ‘m too tired, Richie. ‘ll do Beirs another night.”

Richard chuckled deeply, too deeply. Richard had a higher voice than that, he sung goddamned tenor in the choir. “It’s ten years too late to do Beirs, dude. Besides, back then you didn’t swing that way, remember?”

Everything came back to him and Paul opened his eyes to find himself staring blearily at his best friend and lover. “Ha, fuckin’ ha. What time is it?”

“Nearly two in the morning.” Paul looked at the clock and blinked it into focus. Sure enough, the time was rounding on two in the morning. Richard ran a hand over his forehead, brushing sweat damp hair off his forehead. “What were you two doing all day?”

Paul sat up, stretching and noticed that Mitch was still sound asleep beside him, curled into a ball with his back pressed firmly against the wall. “Video games, television, I even went over some of his math with him to see if I could help. He reminds me of Jeremy.”

“You helped him with math?”

Paul shrugged, “I brought him some of Jeremy’s old school texts to keep him occupied. He’s dying of boredom in here, whether you see it or not. You do remember being fifteen, right?”

Richard stared at the sleeping boy on his bed for a moment longer before looking back. “Yeah, I do. Why don’t you stay the night? We’ve got to work out tomorrow and it’s late.”

Paul nodded and watched as Richard shed his clothes. Overall, Paul could say he wasn’t gay. Well, he wasn’t any more gay than he was straight. He liked women, he liked breasts a lot, but for some reason he also liked Richard. He spared a glance at Mitch, who mumbled something in his sleep. He liked Mitch too, even if he didn’t care to admit it, and not in that brotherly sort of way like he’d told Richard. When he saw the way the kid cringed away from physical contact, he just wanted to take him in his arms and show him how good it could be, but there was Richard to consider.

He’d never felt anything for one of Richard’s boys before. He came over when Richard asked him to and sat and watched them do whatever they wanted to do. They in turn kept their distance from him. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement in that they didn’t starve and he got out of his house for a little while. Mitch was different. He hadn’t adapted as well, or as quickly as the others had. He cried a lot more, got angry quicker. He was more apt to go into boughts of melancholy, especially when left alone for more than a few minutes. Mitch needed him and that was... kind of nice.

“You all right?”

He looked back and saw Richard standing in the middle of the room, naked except for his underwear, his well developed muscles shining in the half light coming through the crack in the curtains. He was like some Herculean god and Paul felt his groin stirring. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. Coming to bed?”

Richard winked at him and crawled in, pushing himself between Paul and Mitch and pressing his chest to Paul’s back. Paul felt breath on the back of his neck and closed his eyes as Richard threw an arm around him. If he tried hard, he could pretend it was just the two of them, but for the first time in longer than he could remember, he didn’t want it to be.

 

 

*****

 

 

Paul woke in the morning on his side, bright light filtering in over his face, but that wasn’t what had woken him. What had woken him was the feeling of hands parting his ass cheeks and a slick, familiar cock sliding effortlessly into him. He moaned in shock and pleasure, squeezing his eyes shut again to savor the rare sensation of Richard fucking him. It wasn’t often that Richard got in the mood for sex with Paul, because Paul didn’t like it rough and kinky, he liked it slow and languorous, he liked it to last a long time, and he liked it to be attached to a modicum of emotion. Richard generally like to take his pleasure and take it quickly, but every so often, when he got in the mood for something akin to making love, he would turn to Paul.

Paul closed his eyes and breathed in, moaning loudly as Richard sank the rest of the way inside him, his balls resting against Paul’s ass. Richard pulled out a fraction and pushed back in and Paul gasped a little. It had been quite a while since Richard had wanted to have sex and if it wasn’t Richard and if he wasn’t high, Paul rarely had sex with men. Of course, it was at times like this that he wondered why that was.

Richard moved in and out again, this time putting just a small amount of force behind it, not enough to hurt, but enough to get him deeper and Paul pushed his face into his pillow to muffle the undignified noises that he was making. For nearly five minutes, Richard kept his pace, pulling out just enough so that the push back in was breathtaking and deep. Paul could feel his balls stirring and his cock was rock hard, aching to be touched. He’d given up trying not to make noise and was grunting lewdly.

He felt teeth on the back of his neck as Richard sucked and scraped the barest hints of teeth over the sensitive skin and his hand crept from Paul’s hip to his cock and began stroking. Paul reach behind him and grabbed Richard’s thigh, pulling him all the way in as he shot his load onto the bed in front of him, practically screaming in release.

Hot breath ghosted over his ear, “Roll onto your stomach, love.”

Paul whimpered, but did as he was told, rolling over and turning his head towards the wall. This was what made Richard such a great lover, when he took his time, when he made absolutely sure that his partner got just as much out of the sex as he was getting, when he... Paul’s train of thought stopped as he saw Mitch, laying next to him, pressed against the wall, with a strange look of confused betrayal in his eyes. Shit.

Richard grunted heavily and came, spilling deep inside Paul’s ass. Mitch looked away, his mouth set in a pout. Paul looked back at Richard and felt a spark of betrayal himself. Richard was staring at Mitch, a smug, satisfied grin plastered on his handsome face. Son of a bitch. Pushing up, Paul grit his teeth to keep from making noise as Richard rolled off and out of him.

When he looked back, it was like he could have imagined the whole thing. Mitch had turned his back to them again, staring at the wall in favor of the man next to him and Richard’s gaze was on Paul, raking up and down his naked, ravished body and mussed hair. “Good morning, Paul.”

Paul rolled his eyes and sighed, “What time is it?”

Richard chuckled and reached behind him, smacking Mitch’s ass half-heartedly through the sheets before getting up. “Nearly noon. We’d better take a shower and get out of here.” He wrapped an arm around Paul from behind and bit the back of his shoulder playfully, “Unless you want to go another round, that is?”

Paul shrugged off the arm and went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. God, he was being such a child. Richard had never been the faithful sort, especially not to him, but there had always been a line. Paul had always been the one that Richard went to for help, the one he trusted, the one he came the closest to loving, because Paul didn’t really think Richard was capable of out-and-out love. At least, that was what he had thought, but something in the way he was looking at Mitch was predatory, like he was marking territory, only Paul was afraid that he wasn’t the territory.

 

 

*****

 

 

Mitch could ignore the dip in the mattress as Richard sat on it, but he couldn’t ignore the hand on his shoulder that gently turned him over. If he’d wanted to, he could have resisted, but what good would it have done? Richard was bigger than him, stronger, if he wanted Mitch to look at him, he could make him. The man’s eyes were alight, like he was when he thought something was incredibly funny and Mitch didn’t like the idea that he was the butt of the joke.

Richard leaned down and kissed him and Mitch could taste the slightly salty flavor of someone else’s sweat in his mouth. Paul’s sweat. “I told you, Mitchell-dear. I told you he’d love it, didn’t I?”

With a pout, Mitch looked past Richard at the ceiling, “Yeah.”

Richard nuzzled his neck, licking his skin in what Mitch was almost sure was supposed to be a seductive manner. “He likes it when I fuck him and you will too.” One of the Richard’s hands crept into his pants and Mitch shot up and scooted to the end of the bed. Richard didn’t try to stop him, just stared and smiled, like nothing was wrong.

The man was fucking insane, especially if he thought Mitch would ever enjoy being touched by _him_. In an uncharacteristic show of defiance, Mitch stood up off the bed and glared down, “Go fuck yourself, _Richie_.”

An ugly sneer creased his face and Richard was off the bed in a flash. Mitch had just managed to dodge a blow aimed at his face when the sound of the shower turning on filled the room and all movement stopped. As if coming back to himself, the sneer melted and Richard smiled. “Watch yourself, Mitchell-dear, Paul won’t always be here.”

Richard went into the bathroom and Mitch sat shakily down on the floor next to the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. What the hell had made him do that? Maybe he was going insane as well. Mitch held his hand out in front of him and watched it shake for a moment before clenching it shut. He had to get it together, because sooner or later Richard would make a mistake and Mitch wanted to be sure he noticed it.

 

 

*****

 

 

3318#. Nothing. Mitch sighed in frustration and wrote the number on the piece of paper pressed against the wall. 3319#. Nothing. He wrote that one down as well. 33... footsteps. Quickly, he pressed the pound button again and ran over to the bed, sitting on the floor next to it and picking up the remote. He’d just managed to hit the play button when the door opened and Richard came in, his exercise satchel slung over his shoulder and a large bundle of mail in one hand.

The satchel fell to the floor beside the desk, but instead of sitting in the chair, which was his usual routine, Richard fell onto the bed, splaying his arms out and giving and exhausted moan. Mitch kept his head down, hoping that Richard wouldn’t notice as he slid the little piece of paper under the bed as far as he could.

One of the letters in Richard’s hand fell on the floor, hitting with a little thump against the carpet and Mitch just managed to stop himself from jumping. Richard, however, didn’t seem to notice it and sat up, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve just spent the last few hours listening to Paul bitch about the way I treat you.”

Mitch went cold at the tension in Richard’s voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything in return. Why did Paul have to go and voice his opinions to Richard? Why couldn’t he just go to the police or let him go?

“I just don’t get it.” Richard let go of his own head and used the hand to pull Mitch’s head back by his hair and look him in the eyes. “He’s never shown interest in any of the others. What’s so special about you?”

Mitch bit his lip, his eyes huge with anticipation. He wasn’t sure what he expected, maybe to be hit, or for the hand in his hair to pull harder, but Richard wasn’t in the mood for abuse. He let go and sighed, scooting further back on the bed to look at his letters. Mitch went limp with relief. Paul was a touchy subject with Richard. He seemed secure in that he controlled the other man, but whenever Paul did anything that showed preferential treatment of Mitch, it put Richard in a bad mood for the rest of the day.

He clenched his shaking hands into fists and counted to ten, taking deep breaths. It was okay, he could handle this - at least he hadn’t been hit again or raped. Slowly, the tension unwound from his body and he opened his eyes. His gaze fell on the letter, still laying face up on the floor. It said Internal Revenue Service in the top corner and Wayne Guider in the center, the address was for a PO Box in... Rolling Hills? Wasn’t that in near the coast, like an hour south of Los Angeles or something? Who did Richard know all the way out there and why was he getting their mail?

Picking up the envelope, Mitch turned around to hand it to Richard. “Who’s Wayne Guider?”

Richard looked up sharply, which was the only warning Mitch had before the back of a hand knocked him to the floor. He pushed himself up, holding his jaw while Richard took the letter from him. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Mitchell-dear.”

He moved his jaw tentatively. God, that hurt, but he was probably lucky it wasn’t broken. Glancing up at Richard, he corrected himself - Richard knew his own strength, if Mitch’s jaw wasn’t broken, that was because he hadn’t wanted it to be. Oddly, Mitch felt like thanking him, because he didn’t think Richard would take him to a doctor, broken jaw or not. Instead, he went back to watching television, careful to keep the volume low as his assessment of Richard’s mood had apparently been correct in the first place.

It was the Christmas episode of Roswell, the one where Isabelle is the Christmas Nazi and Max saves the hospital full of children. It was only about two months to Christmas. Would he be home by then? He tried to ignore the little voice in the back of his head that kept pointing out that he couldn’t be sure he was ever going home. The only thing that kept him sane was the thought the he would get to see his family again and that Richard didn’t intend to kill him. He was wondering if his parents would buy his the X-Box for Christmas like he wanted. Well, had wanted. He was beginning to think that if he ever got out of here he’d never touch another video game as long as he lived. Or a television. Maybe he could get them to agree to give him riding lessons, or ice skating lessons, anything outside of the house. With a sigh, he let himself slip into thoughts of all the outdoors activities that he could do.

 

 

*****

 

 

“Jessie! You’re back!”

Mitch groggily opened his eyes and looked over at Richard, who was sitting at his computer, smiling at the cell phone that was propped up on its mount. A voice that Mitch didn’t recognize chuckled. “Yeah, took forever to get that account settled. Anthony tells me you’ve a new boy?”

It wasn’t often that Richard used the speaker phone. He seemed to prefer to keep his conversations quiet. Mitch wondered if he hadn’t realized he was awake yet and closed his eyes, just in case.

“I do indeed. He’s a spitfire, Jessie. I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

“How about tonight?”

There was a pause. “Not tonight, I’ve got something planned for today. You doing anything tomorrow?”

“I took a few days off for Anthony. What time do you want us over there?”

“Eight o’clock and bring pizza.”

Mitch opened one eye discretely as he heard the sound of the phone hanging up and saw Richard swivel his chair around to face him. “Hey, Mitchell-dear.”

Shit. Mitch opened his other eye and sat up, trying to suppress the urge to stretch. Richard always ogled him when he stretched. Instead, he pulled the blankets up with him and covered himself, trying his best to look cold. At least Richard had left the fan on this time.

Richard smiled and reached behind him, closing the computer with a click. It wasn’t a loud click, but to Mitch it sounded like thunder, because when Richard closed his laptop without turning it off, it meant he wasn’t leaving the apartment, and if he was looking at Mitch when he did it, that meant he wanted to entertain himself with his unwilling partner.

Mitch shifted uncomfortably as Richard sat on the bed and sidled up to him. He hated this, he hated it. Richard put a hand on the side of his face and kissed him, working his tongue into the younger boy’s mouth languorously. _Please make him stop, I can’t do it again_. Mitch hated feeling weak. He hated knowing that even if he fought this, Richard would win, had won many times before. There wasn’t anything he could do.

The hand stole over Mitch’s face and down the side of his neck. It stroked his shoulder before slipping to the quilt and pulling it away to expose the shaking form under it. Mitch pulled away sharply. “Stop.”

Richard responded by grabbing the back of him head and pulling him back up into the kiss, gripping his hair tightly. Mitch whimpered under the bruising lips. Sometimes he thought this was worse than the rape. Rape was supposed to be humiliating and degrading, but kissing... that was supposed to be about showing someone affection. Somehow, Richard managed to turn everything into a show of dominance, from sex to going to the bathroom.

The hand that had been resting on Mitch’s shoulder moved forward and down, slowly traversing over Mitch’s shaking chest, over his quivering abdomen and came to rest on the hem of his pants. Even though he knew what was coming, even though he knew how useless fighting it was, Mitch couldn’t help himself. He reached down and tried to pull Richard’s hand away from him, away from that part of him.

Richard moaned and let go of his hair, ripping his mouth away from Mitch’s, looking at him a feral grin.

“Please, Richard. Please?”

His wrists were grabbed and Richard forced him onto his back, settling himself between Mitch’s legs. “You look so pretty when you beg.”

“No!” He tried to wrestle free his hands, but Richard pinned them to bed on either side of his head and started kissing down the side of his neck, ignoring his struggles. Knowing it was useless, he forced himself to lay still, just wanting it to be over.

Richard chuckled against his neck. “You smell good. Maybe I do understand why Paul likes you so much. You feel so helpless. He always was a sucker for wounded animals.” Mitch scowled and pressed the flats of his feet on the bed, trying to push up and dislodged the actor. He only succeeded in grinding their hips together. “Now, now, no need to take offense, Mitchell-dear. Remember when I told you that you’d like it? You will.”

Oh, god. Mitch frantically tried to pull his hands away, to buck Richard off him, anything to stop this, but it wasn’t going to stop and he could helpless tears welled up in his eyes.

Richard moved his hands so that they were above his head and shifted his grip to hold both of Mitch’s wrists in only one of his hands. Getting onto his knees, he reached behind the bed, searching for something between the wall and the mattress. Mitch was trying to get a leg under Richard’s to kick him in groin and he bent his head back to see what the man was doing… and froze when Richard’s hand came up holding a length of rope.

As he watched, the actor pulled until the end of the rope came up and then started to wind it around Mitch’s wrists. With a disbelieving cry, Mitch doubled his efforts for freedom. He kicked Richard’s feet, he tried to hammer at the back of his thighs, anything to make the task of tying him up more difficult, to get him to slip up and relax his grip, for even a second, but when Richard finally let go it was because he was finished.

Mitch pulled at the restraint, but there wasn’t any give and the short length didn’t even allow him to lift his hands more that an inch or two off the bed. Richard sat back on his knees and smiled, as if it was all a game. “Just relax.”

Relax? Mitch tried to pull his leg in again so that he could kick Richard, he wasn’t even sure where anymore, because he face seemed like an appealing option, but the groin would probably do more damage. Richard put a hand on his knees and forced his legs to remain where they were, draped over the man’s thighs. “I said relax. That can be achieved one of two way, Mitchell-dear, willingly, or I can get the drugs. Your choice.”

The blood drained from Mitch’s face and he felt himself go limp from fear. He didn’t want to be drugged again, he didn’t. Even the idea of taking the Tylenol was terrifying, because it made it hard for him to think. Richard relaxed his grip on Mitch’s knees and leaned over, kissing his slack lips. “Better.”

Mitch closed his eyes as Richard untied the drawstring to his pajama bottoms and pulled them and his underwear off. He closed his eyes tighter when Richard put his hands under Mitch’s knees and forced them up high, wider. A wet finger probed him and pushed in and Mitch keened softly. Without the effects of the drug making him pliable, it was uncomfortable, intrusive.

After a minute, a second finger pushed in. That hurt. He pressed down with his feet, trying to push away, but Richard put a hand on his thigh, stopping the movement. Pushing up his shirt, Richard tongued his navel, leaving a wet trail up to his nipples before biting them softly, rolling the tiny nubs between his teeth, smiling into his chest. He latched onto it, teething and sucking it until it was swollen and then flicking it with his tongue. “Have you ever thought about getting a piercing?”

He groaned helplessly as Richard moved onto the other nipple. “It would look sexy on you, with your small build.”

Mitch wanted to tell him where he could shove his ideas of what was sexy, but Richard introduced a third finger into his arse and he became quite unable to think of anything other than the searing, stretching pain in his backside. It hurt, a lot, and he couldn’t stop the whimpers that fell from his mouth as Richard moved the fingers. Unfortunately, the more Richard moved, the more a certain part of Mitch’s body seemed to take an interest in it and, despite the intense, stinging pain, it wasn’t long before his cock was achingly hard. Leaning forward just a little further, Richard kissed him, twisting his tongue around Mitch’s mouth and ignoring the fact that his partner was unresponsive.

After nearly a full minute of deep kissing, Richard pulled away, his face flush with arousal and pulled his fingers out. Mitch cried out once before he managed to close his throat. He hated himself. He hated that he was so weak that he couldn’t hide his pain. He hated that while he watched Richard undoing the buttons of his shirt and slipping it off his broad shoulders, Mitch’s cock seemed to think this was a fabulous thing, while inside, his stomach was clenching in fear.

Richard stood to remove his trousers and Mitch looked up, frantically tugging at the bonds around his wrists. This was even worse than being held down. At least then he could see the strain in Richard’s face as the larger man tried to keep him in place, but the rope was entirely unforgiving and it rubbed against his wrists, reminded him that even if he could fight Richard off somehow, it would keep him there until the man recovered.

The bed dipped and Mitch looked down to see Richard hovering over him, staring down intently. Mitch shook his head minutely in protest, because it was the only thing he could do as Richard set a small bottle on the bed beside him and crawled forward, forcing Mitch’s thighs open with his hands and knees. “Please?”

Richard reached for the bottle and thumbed it open, ignoring Mitch entirely as he spread clear fluid over his hard cock. Mitch closed his eyes as hands grabbed the undersides of his knees and forced his legs to fold over and up. “Mitchell-dear, open your eyes.”

Mitch dragged his eyes open, looking at Richard, who was hovering over him. He felt so vulnerable with his legs over Richard’s shoulders and his ass lifted off the bed, presenting itself to Richard’s hard, slicked cock. Mitch gripped the rope in his hands, desperate for something to brace himself with as he felt the head of that cock against the pucker of his ass.

Richard slowly pressed into him. The pressure built uncomfortably until the head popped past the resistance. Mitch cried out, more from the suddenness of the tearing pain.   Every other time this had been done to him, he’d been under the influence of some kind of drug, but not this time. This time there was nothing dulling his senses and he couldn’t stop himself from begging. “Stop! Take it out, please! Please, stop!” Richard eased his way in slowly, not stopping until he was fully seated in the boy’s ass.

Richard stared down at him, holding his eye contact determinedly and undulated his hips, earning a sob from Mitch. “God, you’re so tight.”

As slowly as he had entered, Richard started to move, rocking back and forth and Mitch closed eyes, fighting the urge to outright cry. “Richard, please. Please, it hurts.”  Richard ignored him and pulled out an inch, pushed back in sharply. The angle of the shallow, upward thrusts caused Richard’s cock to brush against his prostate, making stars go off in his head, despite the agonizing pain of having his ass torn open.

Richard leaned down and kissed him, working his tongue around Mitch’s mouth as he continued to move, lengthening his thrusts. Mitch felt tears building up in his eyes at the same time that he caught himself moaning into Richard’s mouth. His eyes were rolling into the back of his head, caught between the pleasure of that one wicked place inside him and the ripping pain of Richard’s intrusion.

The man reached between them and wrapped his hand around Mitch’s cock. A few quick strokes was all it took for Mitch to explode in orgasm, his back arching as the intensity of it made his toes curl and his head feel light. Richard thrust twice before stopping, his seed spreading warm through Mitch’s ass.

At length, Richard pulled out. He reached over the edge of the bed and fished around for his shirt, using it to wipe Mitch’s ass of lubricant and cum before leaning down again and kissing him softly, “I told you you’d enjoy it, didn’t I? You were so good, Mitchell-dear. You were perfect.”

Mitch knew he was crying, tears making his vision blurry, but Richard didn’t seem to care about that as he undid the bindings on the boy’s wrists. “Let’s get you in the shower.”

Fighting back a grimace, he sat up on the bed while Richard went into the bathroom to turn on the water. He hurt, not as much as the last time two weeks ago, but he was sore and walking was the last thing he wanted to do. With a small sob, he dropped his head to his knees and let himself cry. Screw Richard and screw the whole fucking thing. He didn’t care if he looked like a child, he was a child. He was fifteen and all those arguments he’d had with his parents about how he was old enough to take care of himself seemed so stupid now. He should never have said that, because he wasn’t old enough for any of it.

Hands grabbed his upper arms, yanking up and Mitch let them. If he ever got out of here, he’d never argue with his parents again. He’d never leave home without supervision. He’d go to bed when they said to. He’d eat all his vegetables and he’d do his homework first thing. He wouldn’t watch television after eight. He’d keep his room clean. He’d help around the house. He’d even join one of those stupid after school clubs his mother was always preaching to him about.

Richard pushed him into the shower and under the hot spray of water and Mitch felt it cascade down his skin, unable to wash off the filth that was under it.

He’d do anything.


	6. Chapter 6

Paul stood outside the door of Richard’s room and listened to the rhythmic beeps from inside. _Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep beep._ He took a deep drag of his cigarette and the beeping started again. Mitch was trying to figure out the alarm code and from the sound of it he was only changing one number each time. Clever Mitch. Not that it would do him any good, Richard changed the codes every other week when he had a boy in his room. The odds that Mitch would come across the correct one before Richard changed it were slim to impossible, not that he was going to tell Mitch that. The poor kid needed some kind of hope.

He silently dropped the butt and pulled out another one, lighting it and taking another deep inhale. God, this was harder than it should be. He looked forward to going into the room almost as much as he dreaded it. He’d never looked forward to seeing any of Richard’s other boys. In fact, he generally stayed the hell away from Richard’s home while they were there. But then, most of them had acclimatized to their situation quickly and Paul had preferred the illusion that they wanted to be there to the reality that he saw when he was alone with them.

_Duncan wrapped his arm around Richard’s neck, smiling up at him with heartbreaking ease. “You’ll come home soon, then? I get lonely without you.”_

_Richard smiled back and ran a hand through the messy brown hair, pulling the head back slightly to gaze down into the pale blue eyes. “Of course you get lonely. Now watch television and I’ll bring you back something nice.” Without letting go of the young man’s head, he turned to Paul, who was sitting, uninterested at his computer desk. “Keep a close eye on him, Paul.”_

_Duncan pouted prettily as Richard left, clasping his hands behind his back the moment his arms were free and watching the door close. Paul leaned back in the chair and watched, half interested, half annoyed, as Duncan’s pout melted off his face the moment the lock clicked, leaving him looking vacant. He didn’t unclasp his hands, he didn’t sit down, he didn’t move at all. He just stared at the door. It was... disconcerting._

_The first day that Paul had seen Duncan after his kidnapping, the boy had rushed the door the moment it opened and Richard had had to physically drag the struggling boy out of the way so Paul could shut and lock the door. The second time he had seen him, the boy had been sitting on the bed, huddled in blankets, staring at the television in morose silence. He hadn’t even responded when asked if he wanted food. After only two weeks, however, Paul had seen a remarkable change. He’d walked in with Richard and Duncan had practically bowled them over in his eagerness to get to Richard, kissing and fawning over him enthusiastically. He’d smiled and asked what presents Richard had brought for him. He’d blushed when Richard had complimented him, biting his lip and playing coy when Richard implied sex. He’d even teased Richard a little, brushing his hand against the tops of Richard’s thighs while they were sitting on the bed together_

_Now... Paul stared openly at the young man standing in the middle of the room, his face and body language betraying no more emotion than a teaspoon. “Duncan?”_

_The boy looked over, startled from his thoughts, but he didn’t smile, he didn’t speak, just walked over to the bed and sat down, picking up the remote without turning the television on. Paul shrugged and started to turn away._

_“You’re Paul, right?”_

_He stopped and looked back, but Duncan was still staring forward, unblinking. After a moment, he nodded, “Yeah, I’m Paul.”_

_“If I...” Duncan bit his lip, but didn’t look over, “If I asked you to let me go, would you?”_

_It seemed strange to reconcile this creature with the boy who had, for the past few weeks, been nothing but happy. It was odd, disconcerting and Paul really wasn’t sure what to make of it. “No.”_

_Duncan let his lip go, “Thought so,” and he’d turned on the television with a sigh, laying his head on his knees._

It wasn’t until the day that Richard told Duncan he was going home that Paul realized exactly how much of an act the entire two months had been. Duncan’s face had literally lit up and he’d smiled and kept asking Richard if he meant it, over and over, even when it looked like Richard was getting annoyed with him. As he’d gathered the things Richard told him to, his step had been lighter, he’d actually giggled a few times, quite unlike the seductive little nymph that Paul had seen only a few times over the last few weeks.

The others had gone much the same way. With each boy it had become harder for Paul to ignore the fact that they didn’t want to be there and that what they were doing was wrong, but Richard was right about a lot of things. They were all cock hungry sluts that had been picked up at bars like Humps, when they were too drunk and high to know what they were doing. They were also all adults, capable to making their own decisions and if they had fallen pray so easily, then maybe they really were getting what they deserved. At the very least, Richard wasn’t overly mean to them. He treated them well enough - fed them, clothed them, bought them things, and he never hurt them. They all went home eventually, having learned a very valuable lesson about accepting drinks with strangers.

It could be worse. Richard could beat them, he could starve them, he could force them to run around the room naked, he could lock the television so they couldn’t watch anything; hell, he could lock them in his closet and only take them out when he wanted them. It could be worse.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep beep._

It _had_ gotten worse, though. Mitch was the first one that Richard had actually physically hit and Paul still wasn’t sure what had changed. Maybe it was that Mitch had lied to him and Richard was still angry about that. Maybe Richard had changed. It didn’t matter, though, because he’d still let Mitch go. He’d still take the kid home, a little worse for the wear, and Mitch would probably never slut himself out again. He thought briefly about the night of the party and the sounds of Mitch’s pleas for them to stop. Come to that, the kid may never have sex at all ever again.

He took another deep breath and dropped the cigarette, stomping it out and fishing for his keys, making as much noise as possible. There was a good amount of scrambling and then the sound of the television coming on, very loudly at first before the volume was turned down. He allowed himself a moment to chuckle silently before opening the door and stepping inside.

“Morning, Mitch!”

He stopped short. Mitch was sitting on the floor in front of the bed, his face completely white and his hands shaking around the remote. What gave Paul pause, however, was not the fear, because he had expected that, but the angry purple and green bruise that marred his jaw line. “Mitch?”

The boy looked down, pulling his legs tighter against his chest defensively. Paul quickly shut and locked the door, then walked over, ignoring the obvious flinch. “Hey, look at me.”

After a moment, Mitch turned his face up a little, his eyes were impossibly wide and Paul knew what he was afraid of, as much as it pained him to admit it. Mitch was afraid of punishment. “I’m not mad at you, Mitch, okay? What did Richard hit you for?”

Please say he’d tried to escape. If Richard had hit Mitch in an attempt to get out the door, then maybe it had been a matter of self defense, in a way, but... he looked at the bruise again and his chest ached. No, no matter what Mitch had done, he was still just a child. Unlike the other whores that Richard dragged up here, Mitch didn’t know what he was doing or how to handle it. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

Mitch’s eyes reflected hurt and Paul put a hand on his head. “There’s no excuse for hitting you. I’ll have a talk with him.”

Mitch’s sagged against the bed in relief. Paul wasn’t mad at him. Paul didn’t know that he’d been trying to figure out the alarm. Paul would talk to Richard about hitting him. Not that it would do any good. In the short three weeks that he’d been there, it had become painfully clear that, despite what he may think, Paul knew nothing about Richard. Although, maybe it would help, at least a little, because Richard apparently cared what Paul thought.

He sighed and looked at the Tivo control in his hand. He had to get out of here. He couldn’t just sit here and do nothing all day. The school books helped, but he felt perpetually dirty because Richard wouldn’t let him get out of the pajamas and no amount of showering made him feel clean.

Paul sat down besides him and put an arm over his shoulder, pulling him closer and a hand lazily rested on top of his head. The warmth felt nice, it felt like caring. “Paul?”

“Hm.”

“Who’s Wayne Guider?”

The hand on his head stopped stroking for a second and Mitch was pushed back, Paul’s eyes taking in his expression carefully. “Where did you hear that name?”

He shrugged, but something in Paul’s eyes told him that lying was out of the question. “I saw it, on a letter from the IRS that Richard brought home the other day.”

Paul’s mouth formed an ‘oh.’ “That’s why he hit you, isn’t it? You said something about the letter and he got upset.”

It wasn’t a question, so Mitch didn’t bother answering it.

With a sigh, Paul leaned back against the bed again. “Wayne Richard Guider. His mother’s maiden name is Carter. Richard Carter is his stage name.”

Mitch wondered why he’d never thought of that before. Actors always had stage names, why wouldn’t the famous Richard Carter have one too? But Wayne? The name didn’t fit him somehow. “Really?”

“Yes. My real name is Paul Hubert Gerring. I refused to use Hubert, but Zalinsky was my grandmother’s maiden name and Richard liked it, he said it made me sound cultured.”

“Wayne.” He thought of Richard with his rugged good looks and tried to put the name to it. “He doesn’t look like a Wayne really.”

Paul shook his head in agreement. “No, never has. He was already calling himself Richard in first grade.”

Mitch looked down at the remote, rubbing his thumb across the ‘live TV’ button without pushing it.   “You don’t really look like a Zalinsky, either. Your hair’s blonde.”

With a chuckle, Paul reached over the bed to the fridge at the end and pulled out a soda, offering one to Mitch. “My grandmother hates it. My entire family has brown hair except for me and she keeps accusing me of dying it.”

“Do you?”

“Nope.” Paul took a long drink. “It was darker when I was young, but it lightened up around middle school. Richard likes it.”

Mitch forced himself to swallow past the stone in the throat. That last thing Paul had said, that was the crux of his problem. Paul seemed to lean very heavily on Richard for everything, but what Mitch wanted to know was, how heavily, because it seemed to him that Paul liked him and maybe he could use that to get the man to help him. Only, if Paul really did always do what Richard told him to, then there was no point in getting his hopes up.

“Do you... do you like that name. Zalinsky, I mean.”

Paul shrugged, “I don’t know. I never really fancied becoming an actor, to be honest. I always wanted to be a doctor, like my father, but Richard just has a way of getting people to do what he wants. I was applying for med-school and Richard came to me and said he wanted me to be in one of his movies. Eventually, I agreed and the next thing I knew I had a stage name, I was in the tabloids and I had agents and lawyers and god knows what else. It all happened very quickly.”

He leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. “To tell you the truth, I was a little scared at first. Richard’s always been good with people - he loves being in the spotlight. I’m the opposite. I’d be perfectly happy sitting in a dark corner, being ignored by the rest of the world.”

“You could.” Mitch nearly bit his tongue. “I mean... well, you have a lot of money now, so if you wanted to go away and hide from everyone, you could.”

Paul’s eyes glazed over in thought for a moment before he nodded, slowly. “Yeah, I suppose I could.” He shook his head. “That’s enough serious talk for one day, I think. What do you want to watch?”

Mitch dropped the subject, because it was obvious that Paul wanted to. Besides, he’d gotten his answer. Paul was a nice guy, but he was completely under Richard’s thumb. He didn’t even really think for himself anymore, so there was no use in hoping he would defy Richard and set Mitch free. Having Paul around was nice, though, and Mitch would much rather keep him as a friend than annoy him until he went away.

“I still haven’t started the second season of _Dead Like Me_.”

“Brilliant.” Paul ruffled his hair as he stood up and went to put the disc in and Mitch tried very hard to be annoyed with him. It was really hard to be annoyed, though, when Paul smiled at him like that. Oh well, he’d try later.

 

 

*****

 

 

It had taken almost another two weeks to get her hands on it, but now that she had it, Cynthia wasn’t sure what to do with it. She held the thick, plastic card and examined it. Cynthia Redding, age 18. It looked so authentic. She could go anywhere with this, but how was she going to get there? Mitch had snuck out the window and used the bus, but then his parents hadn’t had an alarm on their house. She couldn’t open her window without setting off sirens in every room of the house and bringing the police down on them.

The police. She scoffed. They hadn’t found anything new in weeks, not since they’d run into a dead end at Humps. The bar tender reported that Mitch had drunk a lot, though he couldn’t really remember how much, he’d seen him on the dance floor for a minute and then nothing for the rest of the evening. Mr. Dearing thought Mitch might have gone to a different bar, but so far no one had reported seeing him anywhere else and the precious few leads they had gotten had dried up.

She turned the ID over in her hand while she contemplated what she was about to do. Cynthia didn’t want to, she wanted to stay right there in Hatfield, so that when Mitch got home she could hug him and listen to him vent about everything that had happened, but there was just no way she was going to be able to sneak out of her mother’s house. She slid the card into her purse and shoved the black bag under her bed before standing up and walking to the kitchen.

Her mother had just gotten home and was cutting onions to cook dinner. It had been the only positive thing to come out of this whole affair. Her mother, having realized how easily it could have been her own recalcitrant daughter who had snuck out and disappeared, had begun to make a real effort to be a mom. She’d started cooking dinner, although she burned half of everything, if she had work to do after hours, she brought it home, she’d even offered to help Cynthia with her homework. It was just another reason for Cynthia to hate what she was about to do.

“Mom?”

Her mother looked up and Cynthia winched as she saw the knife nearly cut off a finger. “Yes, dear?”

“I was thinking,” she shoved her hands in her pockets and clenched her fists. This was for Mitch, she could do this for Mitch. “I want to go stay with dad for a while.”

Putting down the knife abruptly, her mother grabbed a cloth and wiped her hands. “Why?”

“I just can’t take it anymore. It’s been a month and... and nothing. Everywhere I go in school and at home, it all reminds me of Mitch. I need... a little time, maybe. It’s hard to think he’s not here and he might never be here again. It’ll be easier at dads,” she gulped at the flash of pain that crossed her mother’s face, “there isn’t as much there that reminds me of Mitch. I...”

Her mother sighed, “Of course, I’m sorry. I’ve been smothering you and...”

“That’s not it!” She stepped forward and then thought better of it, stepping back again. “I really, really like what’s been going on here. I like having you home. I like eating dinner with you. I just... I really can’t take Mitch beingmissing and everything. The kids at school all stare at me, but they never say anything. I don’t feel right talking to the Dearings, not after I lied to them and it isn’t getting easier. I... please? Just for a month? Maybe two? Just until I can get my head straight.”

Reluctantly, her mother nodded, “I’ll call your father tomorrow and we’ll get things settled.”

Cynthia forced herself not to sigh in relief. She’d been so afraid that nothing she’d say was going to make a difference, but it had. She was going to Los Angeles to stay with her father and she’d be able to sneak out and go to the clubs and... well, she didn’t know what she was going to do after that, but she’d figure that out when she got there. “Thank you, mom.”

She turned around, not wanting to see the hurt in her mother’s face again. She had to do this. In a few months she’d come home, maybe with Mitch, maybe not, but at least she’d have tried. Maybe... maybe if she found him, the Dearings would understand how sorry she was that she’d lied.

 

 

*****

 

 

Tanner was a sadomasochistic, drama queen with a bad-boy attitude and a fetish for saying no in the crudest ways possible. He wasn’t all that tall, though he did stand a good few inches above Mitch. He was, however, spindly thin and ridiculously flexible. Not to say he went around the room stretching obscenely, but it was in the way he moved on and off the bed and the way he bent his thin legs around his boyfriend, Jessie, or Paul when the man let him.

Jessie was the polar opposite. He was tall, taller than Richard by at least two inches and he was built like a body builder. He had brown hair, buzzed close to his head and murky brown eyes that penetrated when they stared. Most importantly, however, he was sadistic in a cold, calculating kind of way that made Mitch prefer good-old, insane Tanner.

When Jessie had walked into the room that first time, he had been wearing a pair of jeans and a button down shirt that stretched tight over his arms. He had seen Mitch and he’d smiled. “Oh, Richard, please explain to me why I’m not surprised.”

That was Mitch’s first impression and everything that had followed had been like a downhill battle. The party had gone much like the other one. They’d played video games, drank various forms of alcohol, ate pizza and talked. Jessie had a job handling accounts out of the country, though Mitch couldn’t really discern anything beyond that, and was often gone for weeks on end. When they’d gotten bored of the games, Richard had brought out the pills - different ones, powdery white instead of gel capped and smaller.

Mitch had fought it this time. He really had. He’d bitten Richard and he’d kicked Jessie so hard in the ribs, he thought he might have cracked them, but it didn’t do any good, they just chuckled at him, forced it past his lips and then Richard had held a hand over his mouth until it had dissolved onto his numbing tongue. Then they had fucked him.

To be honest, Mitch couldn’t even remember the order. He knew that Richard fucked him first, shoving his face in a pillow and slamming into him so hard that not even the drugs could make it pleasurable. He knew that Louis and Mickey had gone at him together, one at each end and that Richard had told them they couldn’t do double penetration anymore. He knew Tanner had fucked Paul again and that Paul had, at some point fucked him, Richard whispering to Paul the whole time, telling him how hot it was and how much he loved to watch it.

Most of all, though, he remembered Jessie. Jessie liked pain. Jessie liked to bite his nipple until it bled and laugh at his pathetic attempts to scoot away. Jessie liked toys. Until that night, Mitch had only seen butt plugs in the rare porn he’d occasionally smuggled home. But these weren’t the small little black rubber things he’d seen in videos, these were huge and one or two of them had strange nubs on them that made it feel like something alien was inside him. It didn’t help that whatever they’d made him take made his skin feel five times too sensitive. He also remembered that Jessie had leaned over him and promised that this was only the beginning, that Richard said he had to be gentle, but that he couldn’t wait until he had free reign to do whatever he wanted.

When Mitch had woken up the next morning, sore and aching, it had been that memory that drove him to the bathroom to toss up the pizza and soda lingering in his stomach. Richard hadn’t said anything about it, though. He’d gotten up and stood in the doorway, leering at him in disgust as he panted over the porcelain bowl. After he was sure Mitch was done, he’d told him to take a shower and had gone back into the room to clean up the mess left by his friends.

Mitch didn’t move for several minutes, still afraid that the fear gripping his stomach would make him sick again. This was hell. Absolute hell. He couldn’t take another two months of this, nobody could; but they had, hadn’t they? Seven other boys had been in this exact position and they had held themselves together long enough to get home.

Pushing himself up, he stumbled to the shower and turned it on, sitting on the floor under the cold spray, waiting for it to warm up. He wasn’t bleeding as badly this time. Hardly at all, actually. If Richard held off on him, he’d be fine by the end of the day. Well, not fine, he’d still be sore, but he could handle sore, it was the tearing and ripping that made him weak in the knees that he couldn’t handle. Of course, there was no guarantee that Richard would lay off him, but maybe... maybe if it seemed like he wanted to, Mitch could offer him something else. He could give him a hand-job, or he could... he could give him a blow-job, even, he’d do it without threats and he’d try, he’d really try.

He grabbed the shampoo and squeezed some out onto his hand, lathering his hair and dragging his nails over his scalp in an effort to really clean it. He could do this. He could do this. He could do this.

 

 

*****

 

 

Richard stood outside the bathroom, listening to the sounds coming from the shower. The splashing of the water against the tile. The thumping of bottles being picked up and put down. The occasional sob that broke through when the kid couldn’t hold it back any longer. It was amazing how not a single one of his boys had reacted the same way to the parties. Gregory had thrown violent temper tantrums, hitting and breaking things. Duncan had gone into shocked silence. Derick had flinched at every touch for two days. Mitchell tried to hold himself together, but kept breaking down anyway.

It was so... interesting. He wondered how long it would take to break the little brat completely. Another few weeks at least. Most of the boys gave up in a matter of days. Realizing that they couldn’t get out and knowing what he wanted, they capitulated, playing the part of willing lover to keep him happy and themselves alive. However, his boys had always been little sluts, whores. They really had been fucked so many times that they probably weren’t all that phased by another cock, another trick. Mitchell was a virgin. Using his body to get what he wanted wasn’t something he was used to.

_“Shut up and pick up!”_

Richard looked at his phone, raising his eyebrow.

_“Shut up and pick up!”_

Hm, Jessie usually didn’t call this early in the morning, especially not the night after a party.

_“Shut up and...”_

“Jessie, to what do I owe this egregiously early pleasure?”

Jessie chuckled on the other end. “Ten o’clock is hardly egregiously early, but I just wanted to check up on you, make sure everything was in order.”

“Everything’s fine, just like it always is.” Richard sat on the edge of his desk, eyeing the door to the bathroom. “What are you really calling for?”

“You know me too well. I was just wondering what your plans were for the kid.”

Richard chuckled. “I’m going to take him home, Jessie, same as the others.”

The sound of a lighter flicking on the other end made him raise an eyebrow. Jessie was a chain smoker, but he usually didn’t do it on the phone. “What about Paul?”

“What about Paul?” The shower turned off and he stood up, stepping out the front door and closed it. The kid didn’t need to hear this conversation.

“You know ‘what about Paul.’ I was doped out of my mind last night and even I could tell that he’s getting attached to the kid.”

“Paul’s my business, Jessie. I’ll handle him when and how I want. If he gets too attached, I’ll deal with it, same as I always do.”

There was silence, then, “Yeah, same as you’ve been doing since grade school, right?”

He crooked a smile. “Right. Hey, Jessie, I was thinking that maybe Wednesday you and Tanner could come over for a little fun. Maybe bring the kit.”

“The kit? What are you thinking?”

“Something in green, to bring out the kid’s eyes.”

Jessie coughed on a chuckle. “Yeah, whatever. See you Wednesday.”

“Bye, Jessie.”

He hung up the phone and looked back at his door thoughtfully. Yes, something green.

 

 

*****

 

 

Richard hadn’t touched him in three days. He hadn’t done anything to him at all except stare at him, which was creepy, but at least he wasn’t being _used_. Not that he expected this reprieve to last. In those three days, Paul had only come by once and that had been a very brief visit, to make sure that he was doing okay and that he wasn’t bleeding or anymore bruised than he had been before. He wasn’t.

_“He’s out with Claudia, showing her a good time and all that.”_

That was what Richard was said. Claudia was a girl that Paul was apparently dating and Mitch didn’t know why that bothered him so much except that he kept seeing Paul’s face, sometimes smiling at him when they watched movies, sometimes gazing down at him in lust, and other times, downcast and resigned to whatever Richard told him. Somehow, he couldn’t reconcile that person with anyone who would go out and date a girl, much less one named Claudia.

Richard had said it was healthy, which meant it would take Paul’s mind off Mitch and that had hurt, because it was true. Why worry about the dark little secret, locked in a room of eternal hell when there was a bright eyed girl that he could take everywhere and show off to anyone? It made him realize, not for the first time, the absolute hopelessness of his situation. He could fantasize about Paul coming to his senses and rescuing him all he wanted, but the odds of that happening were higher than he could count.

Still, not even resignation could have prepared him for what happened when Richard finally did touch him. He’d been gone all day, out with Tanner and Jessie, or that was what he’d said and Mitch had been stuck in the room watching television and occasionally trying to figure out the code on the door. He hadn’t had much time for that lately, as Richard was almost always there.

He’d been watching the news when the door unlocked.   He quickly changed it to Cartoon Network and cringed as when the program was Pokemon. Richard looked at the screen and raised one eyebrow before shrugging. He had to know that wasn’t what Mitch was watching, but apparently he wasn’t in the mood to argue about it. Tanner came in holding a bag over his shoulder, eyeing Mitch hungrily and Jessie stood behind him, with an equally disturbing, pleased look on his face.

Richard sat on the bed behind him, spreading his legs to straddle either side of Mitch’s shoulders. “Hey, Mitchell-dear, we brought you a present.” Mitch didn’t look back until his face was grabbed and forced around. “Don’t you want to know what it is?” When he didn’t respond, Richard shrugged again and let go of his jaw. “Well, then, I suppose it’ll have to be a surprise.”

Without warning, he moved his legs, putting them over Mitch’s shoulders and wedging them between his arms and body, pinning Mitch with his back against the bed. Instinctively, Mitch struggled. He didn’t know what it was they were planning, but with Jessie and Tanner there it couldn’t be good.

_I can’t wait till Richard let’s me really play with you, little boy. I’m going to make you hurt so pretty._

Jessie moved forward and Mitch braced himself to kick, but the larger man was ready and this time he wasn’t impeded by drugs. He caught Mitch’s feet and forced his legs straight, sitting on them just bellow his knees. Mitch gave a wordless cry as he realized that with his legs and back forced straight that this, he could hardly move. Of course, that was probably the point.

Tanner sat down next to him, unzipping the bag. “It’ll go easier if he can’t see.”

Mitch tried to move his head away when he saw Richard reaching for him, but there really wasn’t anywhere he could go that Richard couldn’t follow. One hand latched onto his forehead, the other under his chin and Richard forced his head back and between his legs, so that the only thing Mitch could see was Richard’s face and the ceiling. “Be good, Mitchell-dear, and this’ll be over in no time.”

“Richard...”

“Shhh.” Richard smiled down at him and his chest tightened in fear as he heard the crinkle of a plastic bag opening and Tanner rummaging for something inside it.

“What...” But Richard wouldn’t tell him ‘what,’ not if his sadistic smile was anything to go by. “Please don’t. Whatever it is you’re going to do, I... just please don’t?” Richard chuckle and Mitch fought the sob that was threatening to come out of his chest. He couldn’t, however, fight the tears that he felt trickling down his temples. What was it they didn’t want him to see?

Thin fingers unbuttoning his night shirt and opening it to reveal the smooth, pale expanse of his chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for whatever I did. I won’t do it again. Just... just tell me and I’ll...”

“Be quiet. This isn’t anything you did, this is something I want and you’re going to give it to me, right?”

The sob turned into a shriek and he bucked as he felt something cold touch his left nipple. Jessie cursed and pressed his hands on Mitch’s thighs. Tanner chuckled, “Calm down, Mitch, the less you move, the quicker I get this done.”

The cold came back and tightened on his nipple like a pair of tweezers pinching it just to the point of painful. “I don’t understand, Richard...”

Richard moved his hand from Mitch’s chin to his mouth, covering it and holding his jaw closed, “I said ‘sh,’ Mitchell-dear, if you were supposed to understand I would have let you see.”

Mitch tried desperately to move anything, but the two men holding him down didn’t budge and he could only sit there, crying silently and making muffled please as Tanner did something to his right. There was clicking and a hissing sound. Nearly a minute later, it stopped with another click and Tanner took a deep breath, “All right, boys, hold him tight.”

Something hot and sharp touched his nipple and Mitch had just enough time to remember something Richard had said, something about a piercing, before white hot pain shot through his chest and made him convulse, screaming into Richard’s hand. The pain quickly dulled to a hot throb, accompanied by an odd pressure in his nipple, but he couldn’t hold back the sobs any more and the tears were flowing freely.

Tanner’s slender fingers pet his shuddering abdomen, “Calm down, come on, the worst part’s over.”

Worst part?! There was more? Of course there was more, Richard hadn’t let go of him yet. He cried out as something was tugged out of his tender, raw nipple and he felt something warm trickle down his chest. Fingers squeezed his nipple and then something was being pushed into the hole, through it, sliding against the torn tissue. Mitch whined and clenched his eyes shut against the cruel look of satisfaction on Richard’s face. Then everything stopped and he clenched his eyes tighter, because he didn’t dare hope it was over.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Let’s get this thing closed up and then you can have a look.”

A few painful tugs and Tanner sighed happily, “There you go, Richard, tagged and labeled.” _Tagged_. _Labeled_. Mitch’s stomach dropped at the implication.   Someone flicked at the piercing and he gasped at the pain. “Did you want the other, or...”

His eyes shot open and Mitch tried to scream “no” from behind the hand, even though he knew it wouldn’t do any good. If Richard wanted his fucking cock pierced, there was nothing he could do about it. Richard looked down at him, head tilted to one side. “I think so.”

“He won’t be able to suck cock for a week, two if it swells up or gets infected.”

Richard smiled, locking eyes with Mitch purposefully. “Than we’ll have to make sure it doesn’t get infected. Besides, he’s good for other things.”

Mitch’s brain had locked up. He couldn’t process what they were saying, what they were thinking about doing. It wasn’t his other nipple, because that wouldn’t affect his ability to suck cock... would it? Was there some mysterious link between left nipples and cock sucking that he didn’t know about?

Richard’s hand moved away from his mouth, but he really wasn’t sure what he was going to say now. “You listening, Mitchell-dear?”

He couldn’t nod, because Richard was still holding his forehead, but managed a choked, “yes,” despite his fear.

“I need you to stick out your tongue.”

His tongue...? Suddenly, he knew what they were thinking and he clenched his jaw shut, his eyes wide in defiance and horror at the realization. Richard frowned, “Don’t be stupid, I can make you open your mouth, baby, and I can make it stay open. One way or another, this is going to happen. The only difference is whether you piss me off in the process.”

Richard was right and he hated himself for having to admit that. They were three grown men and he was one teenage boy. Reluctantly, he relaxed his jaw. It was okay. He’d take it out when he got home, just like he would take out the nipple ring and burn the stupid clothes and throw away the movies and anything else Richard had bought for him.

He had time to see Richard smile before the hand on his forehead moved to cover his eyes. “Stick out your tongue.”

Slowly, he did as he was told, trying to ignore the pathetic whimpers that kept coming from his throat. He hated that he was so weak, that he couldn’t do anything to stop this, that his only choices were to fight and make it more painful, or do what he was told and maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much.

The plastic rustled again and he immediately drew his tongue back into his mouth. “Mitchell-dear.” He sobbed and then stuck it back out.

Tanner dabbed something on his tongue that tasted funny and then like nothing at all, because the spot had gone numb. “It’s just Oral-B. Now, I need you to take deep breath and hold it.”

Despite his shaking, he managed to do as he was told. He felt Tanner straddle his lap and thought something metal brushed against his lip and the next moment the pain of something ripping through his tongue. Instinctively, he pulled his tongue away, but metal clicked against his teeth and he stopped moving. It was _in_ his tongue.

Tanner clucked, “Come on, back out, Mitch, as far you can. We’re almost finished.”

The needle was pulled the rest of the way through and Mitch gripped the blanket hanging off the edge of the bed as Tanner forced a thicker bar into the fresh wound. Mitch’s whole body was convulsing and he tried to work his legs free, not to kick anyone, but because he wanted to brace his feet. Finally Tanner moved away and Richard let go of him. He pulled his tongue into his mouth, startled by the weight of the bar and little ball that rested against the bottom of his mouth. It felt heavy.

As Richard unwound his legs from Mitch’s arms, Mitch pulled his own legs up, curling into a ball. They were all staring at him, like they expected something. He looked down and saw a little hoop in his nipple with a green ball hanging off it. There was blood all over his chest and on Tanner’s hands and Jessie took one of those slender fingers and kissed the tip of it, licking the red from his lips afterwards. Oh, god, he was going to be sick.

His stomach heaved and Tanner looked over at him suddenly before moving away from his boyfriend, his face set hard in agitation. “Take a deep breath through your nose.” He did, because he was too terrified and sickened to disobey. “Now another.” The nausea was started to recede. “Tilt you head back and keep breathing.” His stomach settled itself, but he continued to sit with his head back, breathing through his nose with his eyes closed.

Distantly, he realized that Richard was saying goodbye to Tanner and Jessie, thanking them for their help and saying that he’d see them later. Jessie chuckled and said, “You owe me, Richard Carter,” before shutting the door behind him. Mitch choked on the fear of what that implied. He could barely survive what Richard did to him. He didn’t even want to imagine what Jessie would do.

Richard sat on the floor, straddling Mitch’s hips and looked down at him hungrily. Mitch closed his eyes and kept his head tilted back, half afraid he’d be sick and half relieved to have an excuse not to respond. “You look so fucking sexy, Mitchell-dear.” Richard’s hand moved over his chest, pressing his cold finger tips into the smooth skin. As the fingers brushed against the freshly pierced nipple, Mitch jerked. It hurt, but it had also sent a shock of something not entirely unlike pleasure from the top of his head to the tips of toes, settling in his groin.

Groaning in disgust at his body’s enthusiastic reaction, Mitch tried to wriggle out from under Richard, who moved to sit between Mitch’s legs and took Mitch’s wrists in one of his hands, trapping them against the bed behind him while he licked and bit the boy’s neck.

“Nn.” Mitch didn’t want it to feel good, he hated that his cock was already half hard, but Richard was an experienced lover and for all that this was rape to Mitch, it seemed to be about some deluded fantasy for Richard.

The tongue left a wet trail up the side of his neck to his ear and Richard’s husky voice filled his head. “I’m going to let go, Mitchell-dear, and you’re not going to move. You’re going to stay absolutely still until I tell you to do otherwise. Clear?”

Mitch clenched his eyes shut and nodded tersely. Richard let go of his hands and it took all his effort to clench his fists in the blankets to keep them where they were. He wanted to fight off his attacker, his rapist, but if he moved too much, he might be sick again. Hell, if he tried talk right now, he might be sick.

Richard got up and went to the bathroom, returning shortly with a small wet cloth that he used to gently wipe the blood off Mitch’s chest. The little hole through Mitch’s nipple was still bleeding, but just slightly and Richard leaned down, flicking his tongue over the tip of the forcibly hardened nub, chuckling when Mitch jumped slightly at the stimulation.

His pajama bottoms came off, slipping over his hips with an ease that was becoming sickeningly familiar and Richard set about cleaning the rest of him, gently rubbing his leg where the blood had soaked through. “Mitchell-dear, sit on the bed and lay back.”

Mitch nearly sobbed, but did as he was told, not wanting to be tied down again. Richard pushed his knees apart, and Mitch felt his face turning bright red at the close inspection of his most private regions. Somehow, it didn’t matter than he’d had sex with this man, because that hadn’t been this... intimate.

Instinctively, he tried to draw his knees together, but Richard firmly pushed them back apart. Mitch took a few deep, shaky breaths and managed to keep them open, despite his desperate need for modesty. Richard drew the quickly cooling cloth up Mitch’s thigh and over his ass, pushing it between his crack and dragging it over his ass hole slowly and firmly before pulling it away and replacing it with something else warm and wet and small that brushed tentatively against the puckered entrance before pressing into it, massaging the tightness with firm pressure. Richard’s tongue. Oh, dear god, Richard was rimming him and it felt... it felt... He moaned, despite the pain that the vibrations in his mouth caused his tongue. It felt good, incredibly good and disgusting and wrong all at the same time.

Richard’s fingers pulled his ass cheeks further apart and Richard pushed his tongue past the waning resistance Mitch’s ass. Mitch panted as Richard fucked him with his tongue, soothing the tight entrance with slow, deliberate in-and-out movements. Richard pulled away, wiping his mouth and spitting on his hand, rubbing it over his cock before sitting up and positioning himself, slipping almost effortlessly into Mitch’s carefully prepared body.

It hurt, god it hurt, but not as much as it had even three days ago. However, despite the pain, Mitch could feel his erection throbbing obscenely between his legs. Richard pushed his legs up and leaned over, fucking him. Mitch gripped the covers tighter, feeling his finger nails biting into his palm through the fabric and then Richard was still, and Mitch knew he was coming by the spread of warmth deep inside him. Lazily, Richard reached between them, pulling Mitch off.

When it was finally over, Mitch opened his eyes and instantly regretted it. Richard was leering down at him, crooked smile on his face and his eyes slightly dazed with the afterglow of sex. “You’re so fucking perfect, Mitchell-dear.” He leaned forward, as if to kiss him, but thought better of it and nuzzled his neck for a moment instead before pushing himself off the bed. “Get up, time for a shower and I bought a new video game, we’ll order pizza tonight and run pedestrians over.”

Mitch had no idea what Richard was talking about, but he pushed himself up off the bed and followed the actor into the bathroom, trying to ignore the hands that washed him, the fingers that carefully slipping inside his ass and cupping his balls. Looking down, he eyed the small silver hoop through his nipple with distaste. There was something hanging from it, but from this angle, he couldn’t make out what. Not that it mattered.

Richard turned him around and scrubbed his back, continuing to massage him in a way that reminded Mitch of a lover.

He didn’t feel like eating pizza.


	7. Chapter 7

Paul stomped his cigarette out and took the stairs two at a time. He hadn’t been over to Richard’s for a week and, despite his best efforts not to admit it to himself, he was worried about Mitch. He couldn’t clearly remember the party, but Jessie had been there and that was never a good thing. When Richard had called him that morning and said he needed someone to look after the kid for the day, he’d readily agreed, relieved to have an excuse to indulge his concern. He’d go in and Mitch would be the same as always and nothing would be different and then he could just stop worrying.

Unlocking the door quietly, he slipped in and shut it behind him, locking it and keying the security code into the pad next to the door. The sounds of Buffy the Vampire Slayer filled the room and Paul smiled. At least, he smiled until he saw Mitch. The kid was laying on his side on the bed, blankets pulled up around him, staring blankly at the screen. He looked vaguely ill, kind of pale, and where as he was usually enthusiastic about seeing Paul, he didn’t even appear to want to look at the door.

What the hell had happened in the last week? “Hey, Mitch.”

Mitch looked at him for a moment and nodded slightly, before turning back to the television and taking the remote out from under the covers, flicking it off to leave the room in deafening silence. Something was wrong. “You feeling okay?”

Mitch nodded again.

“You don’t look so good.”

Mitch shrugged.

“Is something wrong?”

He shook his head.

“You going to talk to me?”

“Where’ve you been?”

His voice was oddly slurred, like something was obstructing his speech. Paul put down his bag and sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at Mitch, who still refused to look up at him. “My agent thinks I haven’t been seen out enough lately, so I was instructed to take a pretty girl on several, very public dates.”

“Oh.” Mitch looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “Did you have fun?”

Paul shrugged, “I guess. Claudia, that’s the girl, she’s nice, kind of bossy, but she has this amazing accent. Thing is, we don’t really have anything in common.” He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “I suppose I’ll have to find myself a new trainer.”

“Trainer?”

Paul grinned at the show of curiosity. He always knew Mitch was feeling better when he started asking questions. “She’s my personal trainer. Well, _was_ my personal trainer. I fired her so we could date and I really doubt I’ll be rehiring her. Richard was right, it’s never a good idea to mix business and pleasure.”

He saw Mitch cringe at the mention of his captor and Paul’s chest tightened. “So, what have you been up to while I was away?”

Mitch sat half up and bit his lip for several second, thinking, before finally sticking his tongue out. Paul’s throat closed as his eyes focused on the small metal bar sticking out of Mitch’s tongue with little green balls on either end. Almost as quickly as he had stuck it out, Mitch drew the tongue back in, but Paul still couldn’t make himself breath. “Wha... Did you...”

The only problem was, that there wasn’t any question as to how it had happened and it made Paul ill. Mitch hadn’t wanted anything that had happened in this room and Paul knew he hadn’t wanted a piercing, either. So, that meant Richard had... “Tanner.” He heard the defeat in his own voice as he said the name. Tanner worked in a tattoo parlor as a body piercer and he’d done things for Richard before, though never to one of his boys.

Paul put his head down on his knees when Mitch looked away, shame written in the way his eyes skittered to the side nervously. What was wrong with Richard? What was he thinking? Fifteen was too young to have a tongue ring. What the hell was the kid supposed to say to his parents when he got home? ‘Hey, mom, sorry I was missing for three months, but look what I’ve got?!’ God, but this was getting out of hand.

He looked sideways at Mitch, taking in the boy’s downcast face. Now that he really looked he could see faded bruises of Mitch’s face that could have been made with fingers. They’d held him down and shoved a needle in his tongue and he’d probably cried, because Paul imagined it hurt a great deal. He turned his head away again and closed his eyes against the image.

Less than two months left and the kid could go home, he’d be safe. He ignored the voice in his head that said, ‘live the rest of his life looking over his shoulder.’ “You, um, you want to watch something?”

Mitch looked at him for a second and then shook his head. “Not really.”

Paul studied the boy’s face carefully, trying to suppress the sick feeling as he took in the deadened eyes. After only one month, the kid was so drastically different. Paul couldn’t reconcile this morose, lifeless child with the one that he had seen in the club that night, laughing and smiling and being a normal, defiant teenager. It was even harder to come to terms with the fact that Paul had a part in that, however unwilling it had been.

“I brought you a game.” He unzipped his bag and pulled out a small case. “My brother was going through his old Playstation games and I thought you might like this.”

Mitch took it with only slight hesitation and looked at the game curiously. He knew this one. This was Puzzlefighter, it was one of his favorites. He and Cynthia used to play it all the time when Frank wasn’t hogging the television. He chewed his lip thoughtfully. Paul was really trying to be nice to him and the thing was that Mitch wasn’t mad at him for anything he’d done - it was what he hadn’t done. So what if Paul had fucked him? He’d only done that because of the drugs and Paul hadn’t so much as touched him inappropriately when he was sober. Hell, even high it took Richard and Tanner coaxing him. He wasn’t even mad that Paul hadn’t helped him, because he’d come to terms with the fact that Paul was under Richard’s thumb, probably had been most of his life.

No, what he was mad about was that Paul had been gone for a week and hadn’t bothered to really check up on him. Mitch thought he kind of liked Paul. Paul was sweet and nice and he treated Mitch like a little brother, not a sex toy. Having Paul come over even just every other day was what was keeping Mitch sane, reminding him that he wasn’t just an object for Richard to use and it hurt that when Mitch had needed that reminder the most, Paul had been out with some slut, showing her a ‘good time.’

But then, who was he to get mad about that? Paul had a life outside of this little room and maybe it was more jealousy than real anger. Besides, regardless of what it was, there was no point dwelling on it. Paul was here, Paul wanted to spend time with him.

Paul looked at him sideways, studying his expression, “Do you like it? I could get something else, if you want.”

Mitch found himself grinning. “I’ll have you know I’ve kicked many an ass at this game.”

“Is that a challenge? I’m no slouch at this, either.”

Mitch felt his heart leap into his throat for a second at the cocky grin on Paul’s face. It was... warming, natural. It made him feel like he was sitting in any other room with a normal friend, who was trying to make him feel better. “Bring it on.”

 

 

*****

 

 

Paul heard Richard stumbling up the stairs before the door opened, but he couldn’t bring himself to move from his place on the bed. They had spent the whole day playing video games and talking. Mitch had even laughed on several occasions when Paul had told him stories about things Richard and him had done in school. At some point Mitch had laid down with his head in Paul’s lap and fallen asleep and he’d stayed there, mouth slightly open, hands fisted tightly in the blankets.

It seemed so wrong that someone so young should be put through so much.

Richard opened the door and Paul raised an eyebrow at his friend’s disorderly appearance. His shirt was half untucked, his belt wasn’t done up properly, and his hair was completely disheveled. “Peterson take you out again?”

Richard nodded and sat on the bed, putting his head on his knees. “Publicity. He wanted me to meet a director that’s filming a movie he’s trying to get me into and there was a party and I think I had sex with a woman in one of the closets.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I remember... really wide blue eyes, blonde hair, and... a uniform. Oh, bloody hell, I got drunk and high and slept with a cocktail waitress. Peterson is going to love that. Brilliant publicity stunt on my part.”

Paul chuckled softly, still stroking Mitch’s hair. “You’ll work it out in the morning. You always do.”

Richard leaned forward over Mitch and kissed Paul on the mouth. Under his hand, Paul felt Mitch’s neck tense. For some odd reason, knowing that Mitch was watching, or at least consciously there, made Paul feel uneasy. He pulled away from the kiss and Richard grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him back into it. “Paul, I want to fuck you. I want to get the feel of that _girl_ off me.”

Paul somehow managed to pull himself away from his friend. “Richard, not now. In the morning, when you’ve sobered up... maybe then, but not right now.”

Richard scowled, but threw himself backwards onto his bed, mumbling something unintelligible to himself. After several minutes, the mumbling died out and gave way to deep snores and Paul relaxed. “You can stop pretending now, he’s asleep.”

Slowly, Mitch raised himself up and looked at Paul with an unfathomable expression. Though he said nothing, Paul didn’t need him to say anything, he knew exactly what Mitch was thinking and he didn’t know the answer to that himself. Richard was an ass. Richard used him when he wanted to and ignored him the rest of the time. Richard was psychotic, but... Paul looked over at his sleeping friend and his chest ached. He loved Richard, had since they’d first met and there wasn’t anything in the world that would ever change that.

Looking back at Mitch, he forced a smile on his face. “Let’s get him to bed and then we’ll go to sleep.”

Mitch stood from the bed, stretching. “I’m going to take a shower.” It didn’t need to be said that he didn’t want to touch Richard, and apparently, Paul understood that, because he didn’t complain as Mitch walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. He turned on the water and stood under the hot spray, letting it scald his skin. It was the only way he felt even remotely clean anymore, like maybe he could burn Richard’s touch off him.

What he didn’t understand, however, was how Paul could like it. It had been obvious before and even tonight when they’d kissed. Mitch had felt Paul’s cock against his cheek, reacting to the press of Richard’s lips. Could it really feel so different for Paul? Richard was still Richard; it was still the same man. So how could the sex be different from one person to the next? Or did Paul enjoy the pain? Did he get off on having something forced up inside of him?

Swallowing back the taste of bile in his throat, Mitch turned off the faucet and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his pink skin and sitting on the toilet lid numbly. There were people who enjoyed that sort of thing, like Tanner, but Paul was as far from Tanner as any one person was likely to get.

The bathroom door opened and Paul stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame expectantly. If Paul said anything, Mitch would lose his nerve, he just knew it. Looking up, he pinned Paul with a stare. “Do you like it when he fucks you?”

It sounded harsh, even to Mitch’s ears and he saw Paul winch. “Um, well, yes, but...”

“How? Doesn’t it hurt?”

Paul hadn’t really been expecting this. He’d thought it would be a matter of how could Paul like _Richard_ , not how could Paul like _sex_. Although, if he really thought about it, it wasn’t all that surprising. The kid had had a pretty horrendous experience where anal sex was concerned, but surely he’d messed around with other kids his age.

Rubbing the back of his neck nervously, Paul stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, trying to decide exactly how to go about this. “It hurts sometimes, I suppose, but only a little - never so bad that I can’t enjoy it, too.”

Mitch pulled his legs up, balancing his feet on the lid and wrapping the towel around him completely. “Why does it hurt so much when he does it to me? Is it because I’m smaller, because I don’t have enough experience? Could you... how do you make it not hurt?”

Paul sat on the floor, mostly because his legs had started shaking. Why was this so embarrassing? He’d talked sex with enough people and it had never bothered him before and Mitch needed to know. He needed reassurance that when this was over he could have sex and it wouldn’t always be like this. “It’s, uh... it’s not so much about size or experience, though that does helps. It’s more about trust. I trust Richard, so when he... you know, I can relax and just let it happen. It’s like...” God, what was it like? “Didn’t you ever fool around with any of your friends, or anything?”

Mitch looked quickly down at the floor and Paul felt his stomach drop out from under him. Oh, please, no. “Mitch, how far had you gone before?” Please say blowjobs, or handjobs, or at least heavy petting.

“I um… I’ve kind of made out, I guess, but it was only ever above the waist stuff and we kept our shirts on.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“Nothing else?”

Mitch looked up sharply, resentment apparent in his tight features and Paul gave up, sighing in resignation. By the time he was fifteen, Tanner was clambering to get into his pants and Richard and him had exchanged a few blowjobs, though they’d been awkward. He’d known since that first morning after that Mitch had been a virgin, but virgin and completely inexperienced were two very different things.

“Damn it!”

Mitch flinched and Paul held out his hands, palms up. “No! No, Mitch, I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at Richard. I’m mad at myself. I’m not going to hurt you.”

When Richard had said that to him, Mitch had always tightened up, knowing that it wasn’t true, knowing that Richard would indeed hurt him and in the worst ways possible, but when Paul said it, it sounded sincere. Paul was relieved to see Mitch relax some, if not entirely.

“Look, anal sex is about trust and it’s about wanting it. If you don’t want it, if you don’t trust the person you’re with, then no amount of experience is going to make it painless.”

“I don’t understand.”

Paul shrugged, “You will, one day. You’ll find someone that you really like and that you really want to have sex with and the possibility of it hurting a little really isn’t going to seem that bad.” He chuckled at Mitch’s skeptical expression and pushed himself up. “Come on, let’s get some sleep while we still can, Richard’ll wake up in a few hours and then you’ll be spending the whole day helping me keep his head over a trash can.”

After several seconds, Mitch unwound himself from his perch and finished toweling off, taking the pajama’s that Paul offered him. He didn’t think Paul was lying to him, he just doubted that the same principle would apply to him. He doubted that there would ever be a time when the memory of what Richard had done to him didn’t overshadow any thoughts of pleasure, but Paul wasn’t going to have all the answers for him. He’d have to wait until he got home and then he’d get his parents to take him to a shrink and maybe in a few years, like ten or twenty, he’d be able to have a normal relationship.

Paul slipping into the bed next to Richard and motioned for Mitch to lay down next to him at the edge. When he laid down, Paul didn’t try to hold him or make unnecessary contact and Mitch tried to ignore the small part of him that was resentful of that.

 

 

*****

 

 

Cynthia imagined that Mitch would have stood out in this crowd - that it would have been obvious he didn’t belong. Cynthia sat at the bar, looking out over the club, scanning the people who were on the dance floor. She tried to picture Mitch in a place like this, wearing those bondage pants and the little fishnet shirt that he’d bought with his Christmas money the year before, but she just couldn’t see it. Mitch was too shy for this. He’d always ducked away when people gave him too much attention and this... she eyed the men as they ground against each other, practically having sex in the middle of the club - there was one particularly young looking boy who was pressed against an older man, the top of his g-string showing against his pale ass as it hung half out his pants - this wasn’t like Mitch at all.

Turning away from the dance floor, she saw another man stumbling out of the bathroom, a large yellow rubber ring on one finger. She’d seen a lot of those rings and she wasn’t really sure what they were, but whatever it was, they were selling them, individually wrapped for two dollars each out of a large jar on the bar. Of course, they were also selling condoms, as well, for fifty cents, not that anyone was bothering with those.

With a steely glare at the jar of condoms in front of her, she reached her hand in and pulled a few out, looking at them curiously. The wrappers were all different colors and apparently, so were the rubbers. They were also different flavors. Banana and peach and chocolate and...

“You won’t be needing those.”

She looked up at the bartender, who was looking at her, one eyebrow raised. Blushing, but determined, she held them up and smiled at him. “And why not?”

His mouth twitched in a barely held back smile. “Well, let’s start with this is a gay bar and you’re a woman.”

“I could be lesbian.”

“Then you _really_ wouldn’t need a condom.”

Damn, he had a point. Putting them down, she smirked. “You caught me, then. I’m a straight girl in a gay bar. Now what are you going to do about it?”

He laughed and put a glass down in front of her. “Buy you a drink. What’ll you have?”

Oh, thank god, she really needed some alcohol to steel her nerves. “Strawberry daiquiri and make it strong.”

“How about a Virgin Cola and I put in a cherry?”

She pulled the fake ID out of her back pocket and held it up defiantly. “I have ID.”

He didn’t even look at it. “So did that Mitchell Dearing kid and I nearly lost my job over that one. You want anything stronger, you’ll have to do more than flash a card at me to prove your age.”

At the mention of Mitch’s name, she had to refrain from squealing like the over zealous school girl that she was. Forcing a sighing, she rolled her eyes and put the ID back in her bag. “I prefer Sprite.”

He pulled out a can and poured it into the glass before throwing in a cherry. “A Sprite you shall have. Now, tell me your name.”

Cynthia swirled the straw around the glass for a minute before answering, “Cyn.”

“You’re real name.”

She sipped the drink. “For a Sprite you get Cyn. You want anything more, you’ll have to buy me a real drink.”

“Blackmail,” the bartender said, as he pulled out a small bottle of Vodka and poured a sizeable portion into the Sprite, “will get you everywhere.”

She grinned at him, stirring the drink with her straw. “I’m Cynthia Redding and you are,” she squinted at the name tag, “Brenda?”

“It’s Chris. I couldn’t find my name tag tonight, so I borrowed one.”

“Too bad, Brenda kind of suits you.” With a wink, she sipped the drink and immediately started coughing as the sharp tag of alcohol burned her throat. This was much stronger than the stuff her mother had made for her cocktail party last year.

“Not a big drinker, I see.”

“Haven’t had any in a long time, is all.” It was the truth, mostly. “So, you mentioned Mitchell Dearing?”

“Yeah, I said I almost got fired over it. Why?”

“Let’s say it turns me on.” When she got a raised eyebrow, she reverted to the cover story she’d worked out before coming. Considering her age, and especially his reluctance to believe it, she didn’t know whether he’d buy that she went to the university, but it was better than nothing. “I’m a psych major, I want to go into the investigative field when I graduate, maybe do profiling or something. So, things like this really interest me, you know?”

Chris chuckled and leaned over the bar, setting an empty glass between them and lowering his voice. “It was me and Brad tending the bar that night. He had ID and I wasn’t really sure about his age, but I couldn’t find anything wrong with it, so I served him a few drinks. Brad gave him one too.”

“What kind?” She couldn’t stop herself from asking, but it fit her story anyway. There really was something about people in what they drank.

“A hurricane and a strawberry daiquiris, can’t really say how many. You know, we’d seen him here once or twice before, but he never really drank anything and he’d certainly never gone on the dance floor.”

“He went on the dance floor!?” The police reports had said that he was seen with people, but she didn’t think that meant dancing. She glanced back at the floor and the men grinding against each other lewdly.

Chris chuckled, “Sure did. Got himself a hotty, too. Guy that comes in here once every few months, hits on the guys, but never really goes home with anyone. Mitchell was on the floor with him and his friend, they danced some and then he went back to their table, when I looked again the kid wasn’t there and they were all talking like nothing was wrong, didn’t even leave for another hour.”

Cynthia bit her lip. It was like the police reports had said it. He’d been seen with them, but if they’d stayed after he left then he must have gone off alone. Where would he have gone, though? “What time was it when you noticed he was gone?”

“Chris, stop chatting up the dikes and get back to work!”

He cursed and looked at her apologetically. “Sorry about that, duty calls.” He started to turn away, but stopped short and looked back at her pointedly. “He was on the dance floor at about twelve thirty and by the time I noticed he wasn’t at the table it was after one, maybe even one thirty. I get off at three. If you’re still here I’ll make sure you get home safe.”

She felt herself blush, but nodded and went back to watched the men and boys around the club. It was only twelve, but she waited and sipped her spiked Sprite and ate her cherry. By three, she’d had two more glasses, none of which she had paid for and her head was feeling a little light. Chris told the manager that she was with him and the man let her stay, even if he didn’t really look happy about it.

When they finally made to leave, her legs had some trouble supporting her and Chris had to wrap an arm around her waist to keep her up. “Come on, out to my car and I’ll drive you home. Where do you live?”

She put her head on his shoulder and was overwhelmed with the smell of cologne. “You smell good.” She put her nose in his shirt and he chuckled, sitting her in his car and pulled her skirt down over her thighs.

“Come on, Cyn, where do you live?”

“Cyn, Mitch used to call me that sometimes. He thought he was being funny.” Her stomach rolled. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Chris bent her over the pavement, just outside of his car and she vomited, sprayed the parking lot with Vodka and pretzels. It tasted just as bad coming up as it had going down. “You still with me?”

She nodded. “I’m living with my dad at¼ Pegasus, near the financial district. Sixth and South Flower.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Pricey place.”

“I’m a pricey girl.” It would have sounded more convincing if she hadn’t had to lean down to throw up again just then. Something was wrong, she was doing something she shouldn’t be, but she was too dizzy and she couldn’t clear her head enough to think. “Take me home.” She put her head on her knees and felt herself slip into sleep.

 

 

*****

 

 

It was too bright and it was too warm and she felt like her head was full of heavy little stones that kept bouncing around the delicate interior at the slightest noise. A toilet flushed and she reached to pull her pillow over her head, only the moment her hands closed around the soft velvety blanket next to her, she knew it wasn’t her bed at all. She sat up and looked around the little bedroom in horror. There were dirty clothes on the floor, though thank god she still had hers on. The window was covered with a shabby blanket.

The door to the bedroom was open and she involuntarily grabbed the sheets, pulling them over herself. Chris was standing in the hall, a soft smile on his face. “Hey, you’re awake. You kind of passed out in my car and I wasn’t sure they’d let me walk you to your door. Actually, I didn’t even know which door was yours, so I brought you here.”

She looked around again and saw a grungy Depeche Mode poster on one of the walls, Erasure over the bed. “This is your place?”

Oh, god, she was only fifteen and she was in another man’s apartment. What if he expected payment or something for having helped her? Chris nodded and set a glass of something bright yellow on the table next to her. “It’ll help.”

Slowly, she sipped it, instantly recognizing the taste of Lime Gatorade. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Look, I know that ID’s fake, but I’d be willing to bet you’re seventeen, so how about I take you home for today, you sleep off that hangover and then call me and I’ll take you on a date. I’m off Thursday.” She hesitated and he raised a blond eyebrow, “You can question me all you want about your friend.”

She started at his comment on Mitch having been her friend, but then had a very vague memory of sitting his car, the acrid taste of vomit in her mouth, saying that Mitch used to call her Cyn. “Fine. You take me home now and on Thursday you can take me out on a proper date. Like to the movies and out for dinner or something.” It was the least she could do, considering he’d actually gotten her home safely and hadn’t done anything untoward to her unconscious person.

“That’s settled then. There’s a bathroom just past the door. Get yourself cleaned up and I’ll drive you home. Oh!” He went to his dresser and pulled out some clothes, throwing them on the bed next to her. Cynthia held them up, jogging shorts and a worn Puffin shirt. She almost considered turning them down, but her father would probably throw just as much of a fit if she came home dressed in a wrinkled miniskirt and tube top as he would if she showed up in men’s night clothes. Scratch that, if she came home in what she was wearing now, he’d not only lock her in her room for all eternity, but he’d most likely hunt down whoever took her home and kill them.

“Thank you, that’s very nice.”

“You can give them back on Thursday.”

She nodded and went to wash her face and get herself together. Everything was so surreal. Just the other night, she’d been thinking to herself that the idea of Mitch having simply gone home with someone was absurd. He was a smart boy, perfectly capable of taking care of himself and making semi-rational decisions that didn’t involve getting into a stranger’s car, but wasn’t that exactly what she had done and she always thought of herself as a smart, capable, rational girl?

Maybe it was as simple as Mitch had gone home with the wrong person. Maybe he had stepped out of the bar at one in the morning and a stranger with nice eyes had told him he’d get him home safe. Maybe he had been too drunk to think it through, or maybe he had done drugs. She didn’t think he would have, but more than half the men there had been hopped up on something, so maybe none of that was as farfetched as she thought it was and if that was the case... well, if that were true Mitch could have gone home with anyone and maybe she couldn’t get any further than the police had.

Running a brush through the tangled mess of her hair, she looked at the stranger staring at her in the mirror. The stranger with bright blue hair pulled into tangled, messy pigtails, smeared eyeliner and red stained lips, wearing a tiny purple shirt that barely covered her breasts and a little skirt that she couldn’t sit in without showing the tops of her black panties. Well, that was the last of that. Maybe she needed to fit in and maybe she didn’t, but one thing was very clear: she had gotten lucky last night. It had been nothing more then that, just sheer luck that she had gone home with someone who hadn’t taken advantage of her. She wasn’t giving up, but she wasn’t going to be stupid about this anymore.

Of course, that was assuming her father ever let her out of the house again.


	8. Chapter 8

Mitch had been staring at the television for almost half an hour, but he couldn’t really remember what anyone had said, or what the episode was about, all he knew was that there had been a lot of singing, which was pretty silly, even for an episode of Buffy. Paul was watching, though, and he was laughing, so maybe Mitch would watch it again later.

It had been almost three weeks since Mitch had asked Paul that stupid, stupid question and he’d regretted it a thousand times since then, especially the day he realized that he understood exactly what Paul was talking about.   Richard had gotten to where he threw a party every weekend and two days ago, at the last party, Mitch had finally stopped fighting. It just wasn’t worth it. He didn’t know how many times he had kicked or hit someone and it always made it worse.

That evening, when Richard had passed around the drugs, he’d taken them complacently; when Mickey had said to ride him, Mitch hadn’t even waited to be moved into place; when Richard told him to suck, he’d tried his best to deep throat. It had hurt, the whole fucking thing had hurt so badly that he could feel parts of himself dying and then, suddenly, Paul had kissed him. He’d been on his knees, Tanner fucking him from behind and Paul had taken his face in his large hands, his thumbs pressing into his cheeks just under his eyes, and kissed him, slowly and softly. In that small moment, what Tanner had been doing hadn’t hurt as much and ever since then Mitch had known, with the kind of certainty that ached, that was what Paul was talking about when he’d said the need outweighed the pain.

The only problem was, Paul hadn’t fucked him. Not once since that first night with Jessie. After finding out about the tongue ring, Paul’d had a screaming row with Richard, in which he’d said, quite loudly outside the front door of the small flat, “I don’t fucking care what you think, Richard. I am not fucking him again! I don’t agree with what you’re doing and I won’t be a part of the sick mind games that you’re playing with him and if you don’t stop pushing the subject, I will not only stop fucking him, but I’ll stop going to your little parties all together!” There had been a few more minutes of heated whispering afterwards, but Richard had apparently backed down, because even though Paul had done the drugs, Richard hadn’t let Tanner pressure him into sex that night, or any night since.

The bed jerked as Paul laughed. Paul had a very nice laugh, it was deep and carefree and honest. It was everything that Richard’s cold and calculated laughs weren’t. Sometimes, when Paul was laughing really hard, his eyes would close, which was a shame, because Paul had really nice eyes.

“You okay?”

Mitch felt his face heat up and he quickly looked back at the screen. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Paul put a hand on his forehead. “You sure? You look kind of flushed.”

Mitch pulled back quickly and his face got warmer when he heard Richard chuckle from where he sat at his computer. “I swear, Paul, sometimes you are so stupid it hurts.”

Paul looked at Richard, taking his hand away from Mitch’s face. “What are you talking about?”

Richard smirked. “Nothing, just watching the kiddie porn.”

Paul shook his head and ruffled Mitch’s hair. “Don’t mind him, Mitch, Richie’s just anxious because the cocktail waitress is still late.”

“Shut it, _Paulie_.”

It had been like this for the past two days and Mitch’s confusion built. Paul was annoyed at Richard about the cocktail waitress and he kept making comments about her being late, an emphasis put on late that Mitch didn’t quite understandand then Richard would get annoyed back and then they’d stop talking again. Mitch didn’t need a keen sense of awareness to know that this kind of thing hadn’t happened before, because Richard had told him. He’d pinned him to the bed and tied his hands over his head and between nuzzling his neck and biting at his nipple ring, Richard had said that Paul had never been tetchy like this before, that he’d always been comforting when things went wrong.

A part of Mitch resented Paul for acting out, because Mitch was the one who invariably suffered for it, but another part of him understood that Richard didn’t need a reason to spank him, or fuck him _._ Things would probably be going exactly as they were even without this. Well, maybe there would be less talking.

“Why don’t you just call her? I’m getting sick and tired of listening to your phone constantly ringing because you don’t have the balls to pick it up and hear what the girl has to say.”

Richard pouted at the offensive mobile on his desk. “If she would just leave a message telling me what the outcome of the stupid test was, I wouldn’t be so...”

The phone started ringing. For every person that Richard gave his cell phone number to, he designated a special ring, usually them saying something. However, this waitress hadn’t been assigned anything and as a result, the annoying default tone rang shrilly through the little room every time she called. Richard stared at it, his face paling.

“For the love of god, Richard!” Paul stood up from the bed, crossing the room and picked up the phone before Richard could stop him. “Hello? No, this is Paul Zalinsky.” He nodded, rubbing his temple. “Yes. Yes, I’m serious. Yeah, well, we’re friends off-set and he’s... busy right now, so I thought... Of course. I didn’t think you were, but Richard’s... right, yes, I agree with you one hundred percent, he is a complete ass for not calling you back and for making his friends pick up his phone. You know, to be honest, he didn’t ask me to, but I got sick and tired of watching him act like a moron about this whole thing.”

Richard stood up and tried to reach for the phone, but Paul managed to keep it away from him, a strained smile on his face. “Right. I’ll let him know. Bye.”

There was a resounding beep as Paul hung up with her and Richard backed off. Paul threw the phone at him and he barely caught it, holding it protectively to his chest while Paul seethed, “Congratulations, you’re going to be a father.” He grabbed his coat and stormed out, slamming the door violently behind him and leaving Richard standing in the middle of the room, still clutching his cell phone.

Mitch stared at Richard in shock. He was going to be a father? That was what the waitress had been calling to tell him, but what did that have to do with her being... oh! His eyebrows raised in understanding. She was _late_ , as in, _that_ kind of late.

“Fuck!” Richard wrenched himself out of his shock and threw his phone on his desk, before chasing out the door after Paul. His friend was standing at the bottom of the steps, smoking a cigarette, his breath coming out in puffs. “Paul...”

Paul held up his hand and inhaled deeply, rolling the smoke around his mouth for a moment before exhaling. “Don’t talk to me, Richard, I’m not in the mood.”

“Come on...”

“No, I’m going to finish this and then I’m going out.”

Out? Paul never went out without him. “Where?”

“I don’t know!” Paul stomped out the fag and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You know what, I do know. I’m going to Fizzy’s and I’m going to find some drunk girl to have sex with. Hey, maybe if I’m lucky, she’ll be fifteen and I can knock her up, then I’ll be just like you!”

What the hell? Paul never yelled at him. Paul never stood up to him. Paul rarely had any kind of thought that wasn’t put there by Richard himself. What the bloody hell was going on and how was he going to stop it? “Paul, you’re not making any sense. The waitress was twenty-three.”

Apparently, that had been the wrong thing to say. Paul gave a frustrated cry, storming off and Richard got the feeling that following him wasn’t going to help. Picking the crushed cigarette butt off the ground, he held it between his fingers and sighed. Just two months ago, he’d had Paul wrapped around his finger. He’d even convinced him to stop smoking just by saying it would please him. Now Paul was leaving his used cigarettes on Richard’s front porch.

He never should have gotten drunk at that party. He knew better than that, but ever since he’d brought home that kid, things with Paul had been spiraling out of his control and he’d needed to take his mind off it. It was all that stupid kid’s fault. Turning around, he glared at the door and dropped the cigarette, storming up the steps two at a time. He’d show him exactly who was in control.

Richard threw open the door and felt his chest seized up for a moment at what he saw. Mitchell was sitting at his desk holding the cell phone tightly in his shaking hands. He’d left it behind in his rush to follow Paul. The kid dropped the phone the moment he saw Richard, but it was far too late for that and Richard walked forward, forcing calm into his steps as he backhanded the kid across the face, feeling some of the tension leave him as Mitchell flew from the chair and hit the floor, hard.

“Little fucker, it’s locked.” He stepped around the chair and nudged the prone figure with his toe. “You think I’m that stupid?”

“Stupid enough to knock up some waitress.” It had barely been mumbled, so low he’d almost missed it.

Kneeling down, he fisted his hand into the kid’s hair and yanked his head up. “Say that again.”

Defiance flashed across his face and Richard felt the familiar pangs of lust building in his groin. “I said that you’re stupid enough to knock up a waitress.”

Richard felt warm spit hit his face and he smiled. “You know, I’d begun to think you were getting smarter. You’d stopped fighting, you weren’t acting out, you’d even stopped trying to figure out the code for the door,” he laughed as Mitch paled, “that’s right, I know all about that. Now, though, I’m thinking you need a little reminder of your place.”

He pulled Mitch’s hair hard, yanking him up onto his feet and shoved him forward, watching with amusement as the kid stumbled and fell onto the bed in a heap, his whole body shaking. Picking the phone up off the floor, he keyed in the code. He’d forgotten it in the room only one other time and that had been with Gregory. Thankfully, his phone took a very long time to make international calls and he’d only just gotten downstairs when he’d realized it was missing. Since then, he’d put a password on it, just in case.

The boy’s chest heaved a little as he sobbed silently into the bed and Richard put the receiver next to Mitchell’s mouth, whispering in his ear, “Say Jessie.”

Mitchell shook his head, his hands clenching desperately into the quilt. “Either you say it, Mitchell-dear, or I do.” He didn’t even need to say that the kid wouldn’t like what happened if he had to do it.

“J... Jessie.”

Richard heard the automated response on the other end, “Did you say, ‘Jessie?’” He pulled the phone away and said, “Yes,” listening to it ring with self-satisfaction. Everything was under control. Jessie would come over tonight and they’d punish Mitch together, then tomorrow, he’d call his agent and clear up this mess with that girl. Paul was going to take a little more work, but he’d deal with that like he always did.

“Jessie speaking.”

 

 

*****

 

 

Paul threw the car into park and got out, handing his keys to the valet with a little more aggression than he intended. He wasn’t mad at the valet, he was mad at Richard and his stupid games. God, what was he thinking? What if the girl got angry and tried to say it had been rape? What if there was some kind of investigation into his past? All it took was someone going over his credit cards to realize that he had gone to Humps and then it would be all over the news and the police would link it to the night Mitch went missing and then they were all screwed.

Sitting at the bar, he ordered a beer and put his head down, groaning inwardly. Just one wrong word and they were all up the creek without the proverbial paddle.

“Are you okay?”

He tilted his head and looked at the girl he had sat next to. She was young, with bright blue stripes at the front of her otherwise too blonde hair, which was pulled back and slicked into a tight knot at the nape of her neck. She had a round face, fair skin and large, chocolate brown eyes. There was something oddly familiar about her, something that made him a little uneasy, but he chalked it up to her probably looking like one of the many girls he’d seen Richard flirt with at parties.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just really need a drink.”

The bartender put a beer down and he grabbed it, taking a deep gulp and sighing as the sensation of having his first real drink in weeks flooded through him. She giggled and he looked back at her, taking in her full measure. She was wearing a dark grey dress that hung to her knees and fit loosely over her slight figure. Every time she moved, the silky fabric swayed her body, cupping against her breasts or sliding over her delicate hips.

She was just the kind of girl he needed right then. She’d make Richard all sorts of jealous, but why didn’t that make him feel any better? He sat up straight and turned to face her. “You want anything to drink.”

Raised her glass, she shook it just enough to make the ice rattle inside. “I’m fine thanks.”

“I meant a real drink.” He motioned to the can of Sprite.

She shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t drink, but I’ll be out of a Sprite in a few minutes.”

Didn’t drink? Fizzy’s was most well known for their unusual mixed drinks and exotic beers. He couldn’t imagine why someone who didn’t drink would be in a place like this. Still, she was cute and she seemed interested in him, at least, she did when she wasn’t looking around at everyone else. “If I’m going to have the privilege of buying you a drink, do you think I could get your name?”

“Cynthia”

Something was tugging at his mind, but he pushed it away, because she was smiling at him and she had a lovely smile. “Cynthia, may I inquire as to what you are doing in Fizzy’s, seeing as you don’t drink?”

“I’m a friend of one of the bartenders. He said that he wanted to show me a real club and insisted that I come with him tonight.”

“Which bartender?”

“The one that spit in your drink.” He choked a little and she laughed, “I’m kidding! He’s on the other side of the room. I was distracting him too much. It is a nice place, though, much better than Humps.”

Humps, maybe that was where he had seen her. Not that it mattered. If she was hanging out at Humps, it meant she was lesbian and it also meant that he was barking up the entirely wrong tree. As if sensing what he was thinking, she shook her head. “I’m straight. I just like watching all the pretty boys on the dance floor. It’s better than porn.”

“Really?” Something about a girl mentioning porn made a certain part of him stir and he shifted a little in the seat. “So, you go there often?”

Her attention was focused solely on him, now. “Actually, I just started going recently, when I turned eighteen. What about you?” He stopped in mid-drink and she continued to smile slyly. “Everyone else that I’ve told about Humps has immediately asked me what it’s like. People that go to places like this, don’t often go to places like that and they seem to be dead curious about it.”

He nodded, setting down his bottle. “Okay, you caught me. I have been to Humps. I have a friend who’s gay and on occasion, he likes to...” He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see a bartender waving at Cynthia, motioning for her to go to him. “Your friend?”

She nodded and stood. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Paul kept sipping his beer, watching her skirt move over her body as she walked to the other end of the bar and leaned over, listening to something the bartender was telling her. Paul looked a little closer and his heart dropped to his feet. That was the same bartender that worked at Humps. Had he been working there the same night they took Mitch? He couldn’t remember.

Cynthia rolled her eyes and threw a rude finger gesture at the man before heading back over and Paul. “Sorry about that.”

“What was he saying?”

_He’s gay, I’ve seen him with tons of men._

_Stay away from him, that was one of the men last seen with Mitchell Dearing._

_Keep him distracted while I phone the police._

“He said you’re the actor Paul Zalinsky.”

 _Fuck!_ Paul stared at her open mouthed and the amused smile melted off her face into open shock. “Oh, my god, you are! You’re Paul Za…!”

He put a hand over her mouth, mindless of the fact that he was smearing her lipstick all over his hand. “Sh!” God, now he knew how Richard felt. “Okay, okay, yes, I am.”

She pulled away and grinned at him. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.” She picked up her can of Sprite and tipped the last of the contents into her glass, sipping it with deliberate slowness. She’d just set it down when something flicked across her face, like when someone remembers something that they’ve been trying to puzzle out for a long time. “Hey, your friend wouldn’t be Richard Carter, would it?”

He stared at her, gobsmacked. How the hell had she known that? “It is, isn’t it? Richard Carter’s gay and you go to Hu…”

He covered her mouth again and tried to give her a warning look, but it must have looked more desperate than anything else, because she pushed his hand away and leaned closer, completely oblivious of his panic. “Look, the night that Mitchell Dearing disappeared, he was seen dancing with someone that looked like Richard Carter, but it was him, wasn’t it and you were with him.”

Oh god, Cynthia, as in Mitch’s friend Cynthia, the one that he’d seen on the news! How could he not have recognized her? The blue hair should have been a dead giveaway. He should never have gone out. That was the rule, wasn’t it? Don’t go clubbing again until after Richard took the boy home. That way they couldn’t be found and questioned. Why was he so abysmally stupid?

“I have to go.”

He stood up to leave, but she grabbed his arm. “Wait, please, do you remember seeing him? Do you remember who he left with, or did he leave alone?”

He shook his head. “I can’t. I’m not supposed to...” Backup story, Richard had a backup story, what was it? Oh, right! “Look, if my agent finds out I was anywhere near Humps, he’ll throw a fit and Richard is seriously famous, it can not get out that he goes to gay bars.”

“You’re famous, too.”

Paul was too surprised to do anything more than say, “What?”

She licked her lips a little and shrugged, letting go of his arm. “You said that Richard was seriously famous. So are you. When the bartender said that you were, well, you, I couldn’t believe it. I mean, what would a famous actor like you be doing in a place like Fizzy’s and why would you be talking to someone like me?”

Paul felt his mouth turning up in a smile. “I really do have to go. I could get in a lot of trouble, but I really don’t remember anything about your friend, I was too drunk to remember half the night.”

Cynthia nodded and looked at the floor. “Right, um, give me your hand.” He held out his right hand and she took a pen out of her purse, writing on it. “That’s my number. If you remember anything, call me?”

He nodded and she smiled at him. Her face was bright pink and he couldn’t help but think that she was quite pretty. “I’ll do that.” Before she could say anything else, he turned around and left, trying to ignore the renewed guilt eating at his insides.

 

 

*****

 

 

“Richard!”

Mitch shuddered bodily from where he sat on the bed. Just the sound of Jessie’s voice made him feel cold inside. It had been hours since Richard had called Jessie and asked him to come over to help him punish Mitch. He’d been loud about it too, saying suggestive things, like Jessie could do that thing he liked to do. Mitch had almost been sick with the anticipation several times already.

Jessie set his bag down, stripping his thick coat off and looked at Mitch, a sickening smile on his face, “I’ve heard someone’s been a bad little boy.”

Mitch pulled the tongue ring between his teeth and listened to it clinking inside his mouth. It was a nervous habit he’d developed only days after getting it. When Paul was around, he tried to suppress the urge, because Paul seemed to get agitated by it, and not at Mitch, but at Richard. The mere reminder that his best friend had done something like that was enough to make him moody with the actor for the rest of the day and when Paul got moody, Richard got pissed and when Richard got pissed, he took it out on Mitch.

As if sensing what he was thinking, Richard walked over and pet his cheek just a little harder then necessary. “He’s not a bad boy. It’s just that sometimes he forgets not to bite the hand that feeds him. Now, Mitchell-dear, get onto your hands and knees and face me. Don’t look back at Jessie.”

Mitch took a deep shuddering breath and moved to comply. His chest was painfully tight. He knew he wasn’t going to like what was coming. Were they going to try doing him at the same time again, or was it something else? Richard had made an offhanded comment about a tattoo the other day and Mitch seized up with fear. He’d thought the nipple ring was an offhanded comment as well and look where that had got him. Richard grabbed his arms and pulled him forward onto his elbows. The only thing that kept his from jerking away was the knowledge that he couldn’t really do anything to stop them and it could be worse. It could always be worse.

Jessie chuckled, “He’s so cute, Richard, how are you ever going to let him go?” A hand reached under him and untied the string on his pants, pulling them over his hips and down his thighs.

Richard tipped Mitch’s face up, leaned down to kiss him and swirled his tongue around Mitch’s, flicking the tongue ring before pulling away. “Maybe I won’t.”

Mitch fought back a whimper at the suggestion that he might never go home. Everyone kept telling him three months was the longest, it was the only thing that kept him going, but what if Richard didn’t let him go? What if he decided that he liked torturing him too much?

The squelching sound of lubricant being squeezed out of a tub made him jump, but he quickly relaxed into the bed. Sex was painful and humiliating, but at least it wasn’t permanent. He expected to be taken hard and fast. Jessie often liked to go once to take the edge off so that he could spend an hour or two torturing Mitch with things like nipple clamps that sent little electric shocks through him, or rubber tubes that could be inserted into the head of his penis. Sometimes, though, Mitch wondered if that weren’t better. At least he didn’t get off on the torture.

Instead of the blunt head of a penis, though, he felt a thick finger press into him and would have looked back in surprise if Richard hadn’t grabbed his face, stopping the movement. “I said, don’t look back. In fact,” Mitch felt familiar disgust as Richard unzipped his trousers with his free hand and guided Mitch’s face down, “keep yourself busy with this.”

If he didn’t think Richard would kill him for it, he’d have bitten the thing off long before now. As it was, the taste of Richard’s cock was just as familiar as the disgust that came with it and he knew that Richard would indeed kill him if he even thought that Mitch intended to bite down. The head of Richard’s cock slipped past his lips and over his tongue, nudging the back of his throat. “Swallow.”

Mitch opened his throat, obeying the order despite the fact his mind was miles away. He would go home, it didn’t matter what Richard said to the contrary, because Mitch had learned a lot about Richard and one of the actor’s favorite past times was making people squirm, making them feel as if they had no control over their lives, because that meant Richard was somehow in control and that was what he wanted. So, he’d go home and he’d sleep in his own bed and he’d never leave again, not even to go to school. His mother would fix him sausage and eggs and he’d never eat muffins again, because that was all that Richard ever brought him for breakfast.

A second finger pushed in next to the first and Mitch was jolted from his thoughts by the sensation. He’d never realized exactly how big Jessie’s hands were.   The fingers felt alien, like they weren’t shaped for what they were doing and he squirmed a little under the assault. What the hell? Jessie never bothered with more than one and mostly not even that.

Jessie chuckled behind him, putting a hand on his thigh to hold him still. If Mitch could have turned around and glared, he would have, but Richard was holding his head down in his lap, so he closed his eyes instead, because glaring at someone’s pubic hair was pointless.

“He’s so tight, Richard, you sure you’ve been fucking him?”

Richard moaned as he thrust his hips forward. “Every god damned day. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to go back to whores after this.”

Mitch’s face heated up and he squeezed his eyes tighter as a third finger worked into him. God, what was he trying to do? Why couldn’t he just fuck him and get it over with like every other time? When the fourth finger pressed into him, he couldn’t hold back the muffled groan of discomfort.

Richard clenched his fist in Mitch’s hair and pulled his head up, drawing it off his cock and forward so that he could whisper into Mitch’s ear. “Do you know what he’s going to do, Mitchell-dear? Do you have any clue?”

The fingers twisted and Mitch clenched his jaw, choking on the sounds he didn’t want to be making. “F... fuck me?” He couldn’t imagine what else...

“He’s going to fist you.” Mitch forgot to breathe. “He’s going to stick his entire hand up your ass and he’s going to fuck you with it.”

The fingers pushed deeper inside and Mitch clenched his jaw as his sphincter stretched to accommodate the width of Jessie’s knuckles. Jessie was almost twice his size, his hands were huge. Was it even physically possible? The thumb of Jessie’s hand pushed in next to the palm and Mitch felt something start to tear.

“P...” He stopped himself from begging by biting his tongue. It wouldn’t do any good, it never did any good. Jessie’s hand must have been well oiled, because as soon as the knuckle had breeched him, the rest of it slid in, leaving Mitch feeling too full and too stretched. He whimpered, looking down to avoid the lust and satisfaction in Richard’s eyes.

Mitch clenched his hands tighter into the covers, aware of the fabric giving under his untrimmed nails. Jessie sighed happily, “Oh, Mitch, you have no idea. Do you know the last time he let me do this to one of his boys?”

Richard chuckled above him, his hand still tight in Mitch’s hair, though he wasn’t particularly using it to direct him anywhere. “Derick, the business major. He cried like a baby.” Now, he did use his grip, forcing Mitch to look up at him. “What about you, Mitchell-dear? Are you going to cry, beg, scream? I kind of like it when they scream.”

Jessie’s hand moved inside him and Mitch could feel the tears slipping down his face at the sensation. It was wrong, it _felt_ wrong. The hand clenched inside him, closing into a fist and slowly started to move, twisting. He had to stop breathing to keep from screaming, not because it hurt, but because someone’s entire hand was in his ass and that didn’t seem... right, or possible.

Richard pushed him down again, towards his cock, which was standing tall and eager and still wet with his saliva. “If you’ve nothing to say, then you can put your mouth to use elsewhere.”

Mitch gave a small cry as the fist moved deeper inside him, his anus stretching around the girth of Jessie’s muscled forearm. Richard’s cock popped past his opened mouth and he welcomed it, because at least it muffled his pathetic whimpering. Jessie pulled the arm back and pushed it in, moaning. “He’s so fucking tight. It’s practically sucking my arm in.”

The fist moved forward sharply and Mitch did scream, just a little. Richard sighed, “Do that again.”

Jessie was actually fucking him with his fist now, moving it back and forth with obscene ease and Mitch was screaming, having forgotten his silent vow not to. It hurt and it was wrong and please, please, please let it end. Richard gripped his hair tighter and a moment later his taste buds were assailed by the bitter taste of cum.

Jessie pulled his fist out and replaced it with his cock. The tender tissue of Mitch’s ass wailed at the contact and he might have struggled, except that it was over quickly. He curled in on himself, too sore to even roll over onto his side.

The room went silent, save the panting of the two men and Mitch’s own shuddered breaths. He’d never, ever touch the phone again. He didn’t care if Richard flat out told him the password, he still wouldn’t go near it, not if _this_ was the punishment. He was so caught up in his thoughts that when Richard’s cell suddenly went off, it was enough to make his sit up and jerkily crawl back into his corner, ignoring the searing pain in his backside.

_“Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.”_

Richard sighed, “Bloody Paul. Horrible timing.”

Jessie chuckled, “Could be worse, he could have called a few minutes ago,” and grabbed a shirt from the floor, using it to wipe off his hand. Mitch felt his stomach heave, oh god, there was a blood and some kind of mucus film all over it.

_“Pick up. Pick u...”_

“Hey, Paul.”

“Hey.” Richard frowned into the receiver and eyed the two still sitting on the bed. Mitch was shaking so badly he was afraid the kid might be sick on his bed and he was bleeding on the bloody sheets _again_. Damnit! At least the other boys had had the sense to keep their ruddy mess off his bed linens.

 

He shook his head and tucked himself into his trousers before zipping them up and stepping outside into the chill. He hated winter. At least it didn’t snow. Paul sounded upset, concerned and a little depressed and with the way he’d been acting lately... well, there was no telling what that meant. “What’s wrong?”

There was a long silence. “I went clubbing at Fizzy’s.”

Damnit, he really was depressed. Paul tended to make an ass of himself around women, which generally meant that he stayed the hell away from clubs. If he’d bothered to go to one, it could only mean one thing - he was trying to punish himself. “How did it go?”

“It went... okay. I met a girl. She was nice. I didn’t shove my foot in my mouth.”

Richard chuckled into the phone and leaned against his door, ignoring the cold air against his exposed chest. There was no mistaking the slur in Paul’s voice that said he was butt ass drunk. “Did you get a name?”

“Cynthia and she gave me her number.”

“Why didn’t you take her home?”

“...I don’t know.”

Shaking his head, Richard dug the heals of his feet into the back of his pants. “Where are you?”

“I’m at... hold on.” There was a moment of silence and then the sound of Paul asking someone where he was. “I’m at the SeaDevil’s Tavern.”

SeaDevil’s Tavern? Where the bloody hell was that? “Are you still in Los Angeles?” There was a long moment of silence that stretched on for too long until Richard finally said, “If you’re nodding, I can’t see you.”

“Oh, right, yes, I’m still in Los Angeles.”

“Right, then, call that girl and tell her you’re too drunk to drive home. See if she’ll give you a ride and then see if you can get laid, because I think you need it.”

“Fuck you too, Richard.”

“Call me if she says no.”

Paul hung up the phone without another word and Richard closed his, looking down at it thoughtfully. He probably should have gone to help him...

“Aren’t you afraid the paparazzi will climb the fence and take photos of you baring your washboard abs to the world?”

Startled, Richard looked up to see little his sister, Camilla standing at the bottom of the steps to his apartment, looking up at him with amusement. The two of them had never gotten along, not since she had been five and a teenaged Richard had tied her to a chair and made her watch him rip the heads off all her dolls. If she was there now, it wasn’t because she wanted to be. “What are you doing here, Millie?”

She shrugged and leaned against the railing. “Mom’s worried about you. She said to come tell you dinner’s ready and that you should eat with the family once in a while instead of consuming mass amounts of take-out garbage.”

Shoving his phone into his back pocket, he waved her off dismissively. “I’ve got company. I’ll eat dinner with you tomorrow.”

“They know that. He’s invited, too. It’s that Jessie guy, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t like him much, but mom thinks he’s fantastic because he has a good job and he dresses nice.”

He turned to go back into his room, but Camilla took a step up and he stopped. “What are you doing?”

She smiled brightly. “Coming with you. You’ve lived in that room for five years now and I’ve never even seen the inside of it. I’m curious to know how my big brother lives.”

“No. Tell mom I’ll see her tomorrow.”

“She’d be happier if you came tonight.”

“Too bad.”

Something in his sister’s smile stopped him from leaving. The little bitch was planning something, he just knew it. “You know, mom thinks you’re hiding something.” She brushed her dark brown hair behind her ears and pulled the sleeves of her shirt over her hands. “She worries about it constantly, saying she hopes it isn’t drugs, or some disease you picked up from the kinds of trash girls that throw themselves at you actor types. Of course, I know better; if anything, you’ve picked up something from one of the boys you drag home. Isn’t that right?”

Richard felt his face trying to twist into a sneer and schooled his features into neutrality. It wouldn’t do any good to let her know she’d gotten to him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t. You were probably too high to remember. I’m just saying mom would be happy if you had dinner with us tonight.” Without another word, she turned around and walked back to the house, a happy sway in her hips.


	9. Chapter 9

With a low growl of frustration, Richard stormed into his room, slamming the door shut and kicked the wall, “Fucking CUNT!”

He clenched his fists and took several deep breathes. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jessie still sitting naked on the bed, his back to the wall and Mitchell on top of him, riding his cock like a champion whore. Well, except for the pathetic little whimpering noises that were clearly more pain than pleasure. Jessie leaned to the side so that he could see Richard. “Millie’s at it again, huh?”

Sitting at his desk, Richard continued counting. “She wants me to have dinner with my parents tonight.”

Jessie let go of Mitchell’s head in favor of gripping the kid’s slim hips and using them to deepen the thrusts. “So, tell her no.” His eyes rolled into his head,   “Unh, yeah, just like that. Ride me hard, kid.”

Richard waited a few minutes, until the sounds of Jessie cumming died down. “She knows about the boys... and the drugs.”

For several seconds the only noise was that of Mitchell’s hitched breathing. Finally, Jessie pushed the kid off his lap and gave Richard his full attention. “She knows?”

Richard nodded. “I don’t think she’s seen exactly who, but she said she knew I was bringing boy’s up here and she said I was too high to remember.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Yeah, so go wash up, we’re going to dinner before my dear sister outs me to my parents.”

Mitch didn’t move from where he was laying on the bed. Millie, who was Millie and how did she know that Richard was bringing boys up there? Vaguely, he remembered Paul saying something about Richard’s little sister, Camilla. That must be who it was. Jessie got up from the bed and Mitch bit back a cry as the mattress moved under him. It felt like his insides were shredded, every little movement caused sharp pain and he wondered if they hadn’t done serious damage this time.

While they went into the bathroom to clean up, Mitch curled up on the bed, pulling the blankets over himself protectively. Jessie had said they were going to fuck him until sunrise, over and over. Silently, he thanked Camilla for her timely interruption. It wasn’t just his body he could feel breaking, it was himself. If he had to survive another month of this...

The covers were wrenched back and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Open your mouth.”

He obeyed Richard’s command, and felt fingers push a pill into his mouth and clamp shut around it. “Swallow.”

He worked it into the back of his throat and swallowed, ignoring the bitter taste it left. He knew that taste. These were the same drugs that Richard had used the night he’d taken him from Humps. Not that it mattered, because if he were in a drug induced sleep, it meant he didn’t have to worry about nightmares. Richard’s finger probed his mouth for a second and then the actor let him fall back to the bed. He didn’t even care anymore, he just wanted to sleep.

Richard watched Mitchell shaking. This was getting to be a problem. He was the kind of man that liked to be in control and lately things were swinging wildly away from him - first Paul, then that cocktail waitress bitch, and now Camilla. He didn’t know if he could handle Mitch on top of everything else. Of course, Mitch was one of the few things he had control over at the moment, but still...

“You ready?”

Jessie was pulling his belt on and Richard nodded. He’d handled his parents for years. If he went over, made a big show of things, and talked about how hectic his life was, his mother wouldn’t ask him to come over again for another two or three months. Camilla was another problem, one he wasn’t sure how to deal with, but he’d figure it out, he always did.

 

 

*****

 

 

Dinner had been nice. His mother had fixed roast beef and mashed potatoes, she’d even brought out the fine china. Now came the talking.

“So, Wayne, what have you been up to?”

He gave her his most exhausted smile. “I’ve been working really hard, mom. Peterson has me running around to all sorts of functions and meeting new people. I hardly get time to stop and sleep.”

She tisked and reached over to brush his hair out of his face. “My poor baby, you should take a break.”

His father scoffed. “Right, just last week you were saying that you hoped Peterson would introduce him to a nice girl.”

“A mother can hope.” She smiled at him reassuringly. “Don’t you worry about me. I’m just hoping that I’ll have grandchildren some day, but you’re young.”

Richard stopped breathing as an idea struck him. He couldn’t be sure it would work, but...

Camilla pushed a piece of poundcake around her plate. “He’s not that young.”

Richard caught Jessie glaring at Camilla for a moment before he got himself under control. His mother looked over at Camilla, admonishing her, “Now, Millie, be nice. I know that twenty-five may seem absolutely ancient to you, but it’s hardly too old to get married and have children.”

“Of course not, but you’d think he’d have brought _someone_ home by now.” She paused, looking at Richard with a raised eyebrow before continuing. “Of course, I’m sure he’s just been too busy to date.”

“No, I haven’t.” He said nothing else, but stood up, nodding at Jessie to follow him. “Mom, I should get to sleep, I’ve got a long day ahead of me. Millie, don’t forget to do your homework like a good little girl.”

She stuck her tongue out at him, but quickly smiled before her parents saw. Richard ruffled her hair and then gave his mother and father a hug before leaving. Tomorrow, he would talk to his agent. He’d give him the little slut’s number and let him deal with her, then he’d call Paul and let him know what was going on. If everything worked the way he wanted it to, this whole mess could turn to his advantage.

 

 

*****

 

 

Paul groaned. His head hurt and he thought he might be sick if he made any sudden movements. Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinking in the dim light. Where the hell was he? The room he was staring at was about half the size of his, with lavender walls and a picture of David Bowie above a little white desk. Sitting up, he fought the nausea as he continued his survey. It looked like a five-year-old’s room. There was a white dresser that matched the desk and had a run of pink flowers painted up the front. The ceiling was spattered with glow-in-the-dark twinkle stars and moons.

Looking over with growing dread, he took in the naked form of a girl laying next to him, with bright blue and blonde hair and a slight figure. She was on her back and he could see the swell of good sized breasts under the thin blankets. Thank god. For a moment there he’d been afraid he’d gone home with a toddler. Of course, that was ridiculous, even drunk he had more sense than that, but still... he looked around the room again and shuddered.

Slipping out of the bed, he opened the door and looked around, trying to determine which way the bathroom was. The room opened into a little hallway with a door directly across and another at the end. Shit.

“Paul?” He looked back, startled by the soft, decidedly young voice coming from the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“I... I have to pee.”

She giggled and he was surprised to note that while very childish, it did sounds... nice. There was something much more soothing about it than Richard’s deep throated chuckles. “It’s at the end of the hall.”

Nodding, he closed the door behind him. He’d just made it into the bathroom when his memories of the previous night caught up with him. Oh, holy god, that was Mitch’s friend in there, Cynthia. He locked the door and sat on the floor, putting his head on his knees. He’d gone home with Mitch’s friend. Opening his eyes, he looked down at his naked form. He’d probably slept with Mitch’s friend. God, he hoped Mitch hung out with older classmates.

He stood up and splashed water on his face. What had he been thinking? That’s right, he hadn’t been thinking, he’d been doing what Richard told him to. A knock on the door startled him and he grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist before answering.

Cynthia had put on a pair of large lose fitting pants and a t-shirt and was holding a bundle of trousers and shirt in her arms. She looked even smaller in the baggy clothes. “I thought you might want to get dressed.” She thrust the bundle at him and he smiled gratefully. “I was going to make breakfast. I’m not a good cook, but I can do scrambled eggs, or we’ve got cereal and soy-milk.”

“Eggs sound good.”

“Right.” She turned around to leave and then stopped, looking over her shoulder. “Feel free to take a shower. My dad’s gone on a business trip for the next few days, so we’ve got the place to ourselves.”

She turned the corner and he shut the door again, looking around the bathroom and trying to get his surroundings. He was going to kill Richard. This was absurd. She lived with her father for Christ’s sake. Although, maybe this wasn’t as bad as he though. If she was Mitch’s age, shouldn’t she be in school? If she’d been allowed to drop out, maybe she really was older.

By the time he’d finished his shower, he felt much better. She had to be at least seventeen with breasts like that and her not being in school only added to his conviction. Of course, there was the fact that she was Mitch’s friend and that was bound to complicate things. He couldn’t very well get into any kind of relationship with her, not when he was always out with Richard and the others, or at Richard’s apartment taking care of his captive... who happened to be her missing school mate. God, but this was all becoming unnecessarily complicated.

Come to that, didn’t she live in Temple City? What the bloody hell was she doing in Los Angeles? Getting dressed, he headed across the sparsely furnished living room and into the little kitchen. Cynthia was leaning over the stove, stirring a small skillet full of eggs. With a bright smile, she motioned to the little bar in front of her. “Have a seat, I should be done in a minute.”

Paul sat down and watched her with interest. It was cute the way she bit her lip when she was scraping the slightly burn eggs off the bottom of the skillet. Strange, the first time Richard had cooked for him, he had done the same thing and it was all Paul could do not to ravage him on the counter top. They’d been thirteen and Paul was staying over at his house for a few weeks during the summer. That summer was the first in a lot of things. It was the first time he’d really kissed, it was the first time he’d wanked in front of another boy, it was the first time he’d had fantasies about another boy. Richard had always been so good at convincing him to do things.

“What are you thinking about?” Cynthia had her head tilted curiously and Paul chuckled to himself. Mitch sometimes had that exact same expression.

“Nothing, I was just trying to remember exactly how I ended up here.”

Her smile faltered, “Oh.”

Damn it, he always did that. “No, not like that. Look, I have a knack for sticking my foot in my mouth with women, so just... well, take it for what it is, huh? I was really drunk last night and I called Richard and he said to call you and get laid and I can’t even remember exactly what happened. Not that I’m saying it would be so bad if anything did, but... damn.”

Gradually, her stoic expression broke into laughter and she took the skillet off the little stove and set it on a folded hand cloth. It was pretty badly burnt - bits of black flakes mixed in it and she cursed under her breath before moved it to the sink. “So, how does cereal sound?”

“I’ve got a better idea. What time is it?”

She looked at the oven clock. “Eleven.”

“Is there a cafe anywhere nearby?”

“On every street corner.”

Standing up, he motioned to her room. “Then go get dressed and it’ll be my treat.”

 

 

*****

 

 

They spent over an hour in the cafe and then went walking in slightly chilled air – better then yesterday, but windy. Cynthia was energetic and full of life, talking non-stop about school and her friends. It might have seemed selfish, because she didn’t ask any questions about him, but it was actually nice to be around someone who was so open and honest.

“There was one time earlier this semester when Mitch yelled at the Principle. See, I had gotten into trouble, because I was covering for him. He’d stayed up late the night before to go out and he was tired and he wanted to take a nap in the janitor’s closet. Well, it came out that I had lied and I got a three day suspension, where he only got a week’s detention.”

Paul chuckled at the imagine of Mitch curled up in a closet and stopped at a street side coffee vender, “What do you want?”

“Hm, hot chocolate. So, Mitch decides that wasn’t fair, because why should I get a worse punishment, when he was the one actually ditching class. From what Mark told me, they could hear the screaming clear across the school and by the end of it, Mitch was suspended for a week, but he said that was okay, because at least he was in more trouble than I was. Of course, he parents weren’t quite as thrilled. His father grounded him for a month, but it only stuck for a few days. Mitch’s mom is so lenient with him. He’s her baby.”

The knife of guilt in his gut twisted. “Really? So, you know his parents pretty well?”

She nodded, blowing on her warm drink. “Yeah, mine separated when I was really young and my mom never had a lot of time for me, so Mitch’s parents went out of their way to watch over me. We’ve been friends forever.”

“Forever?”

“Well, since pre-school, anyway.” Sitting on the top of a bench, she brushed a strand of blue hair behind her ears. “Our first day of class, one of the boys picked on Mitch and made him cry so I decked him. It was the first in a long string of offenses I was destined to commit while protecting Mitch’s delicate emotions.”

Paul chuckled uncomfortably. He liked hearing about Mitch from someone else, he liked the image he got when he thought of the kid as a normal teenage boy and not just a victim, but god was it awkward. “You know, I really am sorry that I don’t remember anything.”

She shrugged, “You were drunk. Besides, Richard’s your friend and what if he were doing something illegal that night? I’m betting you wouldn’t want him to get caught for it. Just if you remember anything important, like who Mitch might have gone home with, you’ll tell me, right?”

“Of course. In fact,” he pulled out his cell phone. A few moments later, he handed it to her. “Okay, hit the green button, then say something into the phone, and hit the green button again.”

“Why?”

“It’s something Richard started a few years ago. When we program a number into our phone, we always program a personal ring using the person’s voice. It makes it easier to know who’s calling.”

“Really?” She looked at the phone dubiously. “What does Richard’s say?”

“Get your lazy ass up.” He blushed, “He has this really bad habit of calling when I’m asleep.”

Cynthia bit her lip and then quickly pressing the button on the phone, holding it to her mouth, catching his eye while she spoke. “So, this makes us friends, right?” She ended the recording and handed him the phone, her eyebrows raised in question.

He smiled at her as he put his cell into his back pocket. “Yeah, this makes us friends.”

She stood up and twined her arm with Paul’s. “How do you feel about hedges?”

“Hedges?”

“There are some interestingly shaped ones around the bend over there. If you squint, one of them looks remarkably like a penis.”

 

 

*****

 

 

_“Paul, buddy, get your lazy ass up!”_

Bloody hell. Where was he? Oh, right, home. He’d gotten home late that afternoon and laid down for a quick nap.

_“Paul, buddy, get your lazy ass up!”_

Light streaked in past a crack in the heavy curtains and Paul looked at his clock, groaning. It was twelve in the afternoon, he must have slept clear through the night. Brilliant. _“Paul, buddy, get your la...”_

He snatched the phone up and flipped it open. “I’m up, I’m up!”

Richard chuckled. “Finally, I’ve called you three times today.”

Strange, he never slept through his phone. “What do you need?”

“I wanted to take you out.”

Paul sat up, his heart hammering in his chest. “Out? Like clubbing?”

“No, I want to take you out on a date.”

A date. Richard didn’t do dates. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Paul, love, we’ve been friends for how long now? Let me take you out.”

He chewed his lip, feeling like an angst-ridden teenager. Why did things with Richard always have to be so confusing? “Fine. I’ll be over in a few and we can hang out until you’re ready.”

“Good.”

He stared at the phone in disbelief. This could not be happening. Richard hadn’t just asked him out on a date and he wasn’t going over every article of clothing he owned, trying to discern what he should wear for it. Hadn’t he decided just yesterday that he was sick and tired of this roller coaster of emotions that Richard put him through and that as soon as Mitch got home, he was going to get out, no matter how much it hurt him?

Fuck it.

Half an hour later, he was washed, dressed and on his way to Richard’s. This was ridiculous. He was a grown man, his heart shouldn’t be pounding at the thought that he was going on a date with his best friend of almost twenty years. By the time he drove through the gate and back to Richard’s apartment, he had finally managed to get a hold of himself. Just because Richard said date, didn’t mean it was a real date. In fact, with Richard, things were ass backwards more often than not.

Foregoing a cigarette, he charged up the steps and knocked on the door, only to be greeted with a kiss by a half naked Richard. Damn, there went his calm again. Richard never kissed him first thing, because, overall, Richard wasn’t much for kissing and especially not out in plain view of anyone who happened to be walking past. He pulled back and looked behind him nervously, but there wasn’t anyone there, not even the gardeners. “What’s gotten into you?”

Richard shrugged and smiled. “Nothing, I missed you yesterday, now get inside before you freeze. So, seeing as you didn’t call me back Thursday night, I can assume she picked you up. Did you get laid?”

“I’m not really sure. I think so.” It felt like he had gotten laid, but she hadn’t really said yes or no to that question and he still couldn’t remember the entire night, just up until she picked him up at the bar. “Where’s Mitch?”

“Sleeping.”

He stepped past Richard into the room and sure enough, there was Mitch, sprawled naked on the bed, one pillow under his head and two more tucked protectively against his body. That was strange, Mitch never slept in the nude and he didn’t he sleep above the covers. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s drugged. Let’s sit outside.”

Paul looked at Mitch uncomfortably. His mouth was open, but he seemed to be breathing all right, his eyelids didn’t so much as flutter. Richard grabbed his hand and walked him out, shutting the door behind him. “Richard, what’s going on? First you ask me on a date, then I get here and you’re... really affectionate, and you’re drugging him. You’ve never drugged your boys in your flat before.”

Richard sat on the steps, motioning for Paul to join him. “It’s Millie, Paul, she’s gotten curious and if we’re going to be out, I can’t risk that she’ll come up here and find him.”

“Millie?” What the bloody hell did Camilla have to do with anything? She generally stayed as far away from Richard and his friends as humanly possible.

His listened with growing horror as Richard told him about seeing her outside his flat, about dinner, and about her constant little jibes that threatened to give him away to his parents, culminating in, “So, I’ve come up with a solution.”

“What?”

“I’m coming out.” Richard took the cigarette that Paul had started to light out of his hand and stepped on it. “Don’t do that, Paul, it doesn’t suit you.”

“Wait, you said you’re coming out? As in you’re going to tell everyone that you’re gay?”

Richard nodded, “It’s the only way to stop the rutting little cunt in her tracks.”

Paul frowned, “Richard, don’t call your sister a cunt.”

“Bitch, then.”

“Richard.”

“Whatever. Look, the point of this is, coming out isn’t enough, there’s the matter of the little waitress I managed to knock up.” Paul nodded, because that really was a dilemma. Coming out to the media could garner him points, especially recently, but he’d come under fire when they found out about her. “So, I’ve decided to tell them about her, too.”

“Come again?”

“I’m going to tell the paparazzi and all the rest of those media sucking vultures that I’m gay, that I’ve had a life partner for the last five years, and that my partner and I have decided we want a child. So, we hired a girl that I met at a party. She was a cocktail waitress, needed the money, she seemed nice enough and she agreed to be my little human incubator.”

Paul couldn’t help staring. That was the most ridiculous plan he’d ever heard! It would never work. For one, the media wouldn’t believe it because they’d never seen Richard out with any men, let alone one in particular and second, the girl would never go along with it.

“Peterson already talked to her, offered to hire her an attorney to look over the contracts and everything. She’ll be getting good money for going along with it and so far she’s agreed. She’s got a week to sign the papers.”

“Richard, I hate to sound pessimistic, but you don’t want children, you never have. The closest thing to a kid you’ve ever had is currently naked in your bed and he drives you nuts. Not to mention you can hardly raise children in that little garage apartment. You’d have to get a real apartment - with more then just one bedroom.”

“House actually.” Richard wrapped his arm around Paul’s shoulders. “I’ve already picked out the perfect one. It’s a two story home out in the middle of wine country. I think it’s about time to get out from under my parents and, besides, with Millie snooping around, it’s the most logical thing to do. A baby is just a good excuse at this point.”

“But...”

“Don’t worry, I’m not keeping it. She’s also getting paid to conveniently back out of the deal at the last minute and, like the gentleman I am, I’ll let her. I’ll only have to see the kid once or twice a month and on holidays. Besides that, I’ll be on movie sets a lot of the time. It’s just good publicity.”

That was that and really he had thought of everything, hadn’t he? It would probably work, except there was still the matter of a life partner. Was he going to pay someone for that, as well? It would have to be someone he’d been seen with on several occasions, someone the media knew as associated with him and there were only a few those. There were Mickey and Louis, but as much as Richard liked their style, he probably couldn’t handle their shit for very long. There was a guy named Frank who appeared in a lot of their movies, but he wasn’t part of the group and bringing someone new in, especially considering the circumstances, would be tricky. He always kept Tanner and Jessie away from the media, which left...

Paul looked over at Richard, his eyes widening as the full scope of why he’d been invited over sunk in.

“What do you say, Paul? We’ve known each other since we were six and I do find you dead sexy. Not to mention the public will have a field day with the two of us. The fangirls alone.” Richard’s face dropped into a serious expression. “Honestly, Paul, you’re the only one I trust to do this. I care about you and I know you care about me and I don’t mean like friends or even brothers.” He reached over and trailed a finger down Paul’s jaw. “I’m not just saying this to save my ass, Paul. If you say no, I’ll find someone else, but whoever I end up with I’m shackled to for a few years at least and I’d rather it be you.”

With every word, Paul felt himself being dragged deeper into it. Short of Richard saying that he loved him, they were all the things Paul had ever wished for Richard to say to him. All of a sudden, everything that had been happening the past two months didn’t matter. The other night didn’t matter. Who cared if he’d shagged some girl on the side? Richard had told him to, anyway.

Of course, there was always, “My parents...”

“Love you very much and, just like mine, they’ll be happy for you. For us. I know your father doesn’t like me, but that’s mostly because I’m always dragging you off without telling him where I’m taking his son. So now I’ll tell him. I’m madly in love with you and I’ve been stealing you away since we were sixteen, because I can’t bare to be separated from you.”

There they were again, those words, spoken in that particular tone and it didn’t matter that Richard was an actor and an expert at manipulating people into doing what he wanted, because it was possibly the best Paul was every going to get and he could live with that.

“Alright.”

Richard kissed him again, like a master giving his obedient dog a reward for doing the right thing. Not that it mattered.

 

 

*****

 

 

Richard’s parents took the news surprisingly well. Paul had always thought of Richard’s mother as the kind that would break down into tears over something like this, but then, as Paul had always known, Richard was good with people and he’d made a show of acting as if he’d disappointed them and they’d rushed to reassure him that he hadn’t.

“Wayne, sweetie, you’ve never disappointed me or your father. We wouldn’t have chosen acting for you, but you’ve done so well at it and you seem to enjoy it. If Paul makes you happy, that’s all we ever wanted for you.”

She’d looked at his father and he’d snapped out of whatever trance he’d been in. “Yes, yes, of course. In fact, it’s a relief.” He’d sat up and forcing a smile onto his face. “I was beginning to think you were impotent.”

“Charles!” Paul couldn’t help but laugh at her indignant tone. Richard’s father really did have a knack for saying the crudest things sometimes.

“What? It’s true, he’s twenty-five. If he’s not gay, he must have some kind of erectile dysfunction.”

Camilla had sat there the entire time, her face a stone as she took it in. Paul had felt a little sorry for her, actually, but she had brought this on herself.

Paul’s parents had been another matter. Paul was an only child and his mother had, indeed broken down into tears and his father had turned absolutely red in the face, no matter how much Richard tried to explain the situation away. Eventually, Paul had told Richard to leave and had handled it himself.

“Father, I love him. We’ve been together for nearly ten years. That makes this one of the longest courtships known to man.”

“I don’t like him.”

“But, I do and this is my life and, mom, please stop crying.”

She sniffled and dabbed her nose with a white handkerchief. God, at least he’d always known where he got his acting skills. “I just... I always wanted grandchildren and now...” she trailed off and started crying again.

“Mom, you’ll have grandchildren. Richard and I are telling you this because we’ve hired a surrogate.”

His father blustered. “You what?!”

“A surrogate, father. We wanted to wait until we were sure that everything had gone right, but she’s nearly two months along now and it looks healthy.”

“Is it... yours?”

She looked so damned hopeful that he couldn’t dash her dreams completely. Besides, they were already telling one lie, might as well tell another. “No, it’s Richard’s, but we’re already thinking about having another. God knows I wouldn’t want anyone else to go through the horrors of being an only child.”

His father scoffed, but his face wasn’t nearly as red. “I assume you’ll be moving in together, then?”

“Richard’s found a place. It’s a house out near Santa Maria, set way back, though. It has actual acreage. It’s quiet and I think it’ll be good for... well, for what we want. He’s taking me to see it today.”

“You haven’t even seen it?”

Paul stood up defensively. “I trust Richard, dad. If he says the place is good, then I’m sure it is. Besides, it’s not like we can’t just sell it if I don’t like it. Between the two of us we have several million dollars.”

He choked on the amount even as he said it. With Richard living in that little garage apartment and him staying with his parents, it had never seemed like they’d had all that much money, but in truth, both of them were millionaires just on their own. “Look, I have to go. We wanted to get out there and home before dinner. I’ll come over and we’ll talk about it later, yeah?”

His mother nodded and his father shook his hand and then hugged him. “I just want what’s best for you, you know that. If he... well, if Richard is what makes you happy, I’ll live with it.”

Paul nodded and raced out the door and into Richard’s car. Richard looked at him expectantly and he nodded. “You were right, they’re fine with it. Well, mostly. Mom wants us to have anther one using me as the father.”

Richard laughed and pulled the car out of park. “Let’s get going, we’ve got about eight hours before Mitch wakes up and I want to be home before then.” He paused for a second. “Don’t forget tonight’s the party.”

For a moment, Paul considered arguing with him on it, but what was he going to say? In truth, he just didn’t think it was fair to Mitch. Richard had admitted that for the past week the kid had been drugged up to his eyes for at least half the day and Paul figured that the only times Richard really let him come out of it were when he wanted sex. Maybe with everything that was going on, Richard would see that it was time to take the kid home.

“Oh, by the way, I got a call from my agent this morning. I got that part, the one I went to the party for in the first place.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but I’m going to have to ask you a favor. We’re starting pre-production and I’ll need to leave for three or four weeks at least. I was wondering if you’d mind watching the kid for me? He’s been a good boy lately and I’m sure he’ll behave, especially for you.”

Paul shifted uncomfortably at the implication. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Richard took his eyes off the road long enough to give Paul a meaningfully raised eyebrow. “Come on, surely you’ve noticed? The kid’s been giving you doe eyes for weeks. Every time you get near him, he blushes like a school girl.” When Paul looked skeptical, he laughed. “Fine, don’t believe me, but will you watch him?”

“You know I will.” Besides, if Paul was watching over him, he could make sure that no one hurt him. It would at least be a nice reprieve from the past few months. “When do you leave?”

“Today’s what, Friday? So then Sunday morning, five a.m. I’ll have to be at the airport by two.”

“Sunday?! That’s a bit short on notice, isn’t it?”

“They asked if I could manage it and I couldn’t think of a plausibly excuse to say no, so I’m going. We’ll be shooting all over the place though. It’s some kind of treasure hunting movie and they want to film as much on location as they can, so I’ll be starting in England, moving down to Mexico, then out to Italy and up to Russia.”

He looked over and smiled at Paul. “I’ll bring you something nice from every port of call, I promise.”

The rest of the ride was passed in silence as Paul considered what he was going to say to Mitch. He’d been promising three months, but Richard had said he’d be gone for at least three or four weeks and he certainly wasn’t going to take Mitch home the moment he got back. In fact, this was probably going to mean that Mitch would be there at least a month longer than they’d planned.

Finally, they pulled off the road and onto a dirt path and Paul looked up to see a run down two story stone house at the end of it. There were huge trees surrounding it on three sides and Paul was struck instantly by the fact that it looked like a miniature castle.

“It’s got four bedrooms on the second floor and one of the first. There’s a massive kitchen, though I’ve no idea what I’m going to do with that. There’s also a small study, a formal living and dining room, as well as a den and breakfast nook.” He opened the door and Paul stepped into the surprisingly dilapidated room. “I’ve already talked to a contractor. This place’ll be livable within two or three months, but there’s a lot they have to do - wiring, plumbing, the foundation’s solid, so that’s something.”

They walked through the living room and into the kitchen. It really was huge, though it probably dated to the twenties or thirties.

“This is what sold me on this place.” Richard went through the kitchen and opened the pantry door. Or at least, Paul had assumed it was the pantry. On the other side of the wooden door was another door, this one made of reinforced steal.

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s the basement.” Richard pulled it open and it squeaked on its hinges. “The house was built just after World War Two and the owners were nuts, apparently thought they were going to need a fallout shelter. Come on down, it’s probably the safest structure in here.” Paul followed him down the stairs, gripping the metal guide rails tightly. At the bottom, Richard turned on a light which flickered several times before coming on. The room was absolutely huge! It spanned the entire base of the house and probably a bit more. The plaster on the walls was coming off in places and Paul could see the metal lining underneath.

“Holly shit.”

“Brilliant isn’t it? I’m going to remodel it, of course. The lock is on the inside right now, but I’ve looked at it and it’s sturdy. I’ve asked the contractor to keep the original door, just change it around so it locks from the outside. Said I didn’t want my kid to lock himself in here, but just imagine it, Paul! It’s absolutely sound proof and there is no way out, no windows, and with that door... it’s perfect.”

Paul felt his stomach sink. He tried to imagine Mitch in this place and he felt sick. “You’ll be taking down the plaster and leaving the walls metal?”

“Of course not. I’d never leave my boys in a place as dreary as that. I’ll block off at least half of it, it’s much too big otherwise, but I’ll put up some sheet rock and paint it a bright, sunny color, maybe a creamy yellow. I might even put in some fake windows with back lighting.”

Paul’s stomach turn. God, he was going to be sick. “Can we get out of here?”

Richard shrugged. “Yeah, that’s about it, anyway. Everything else is getting pretty much gutted and redone. When things are closer to finished, we’ll let you pick a room and decorate it however you want. Unless you want to share a room with me?”

Paul pushed Richard playfully, “Shove it, Richie.”

A pair of arms came around him from behind and Richard’s breath ghosted over his neck. “I’d very much like to shove it, Paulie. The question is, will you let me?”

A shiver ran down Paul’s spine and he closed his eyes, blocking out the dark, depressing atmosphere of the basement. He let Richard kiss his neck and position him so that he was leaning forward with his hands on the wall. What was it about Richard that made him give in every time? His buckle was hastily undone and his trousers and underwear were pushed to the floor. He shivered as the cold, dank air hit his backside. Did he give in because of the sex? He moaned as Richard pushed his spit slicked cock into his ass. The sex was good, yes, the sex was really, fucking fantastic, but it was hardly the sort of thing that one went around breaking the law for.

He took one hand off the wall and put it behind him, on Richard’s hip, trying to make him go deeper. So, what was it if it wasn’t just sex? Was it love? He did love Richard, but he couldn’t say that he was in love with him. There was so much about Richard that he didn’t understand. There was that dark part of his best friend that attracted people like Jessie and Tanner.

Richard pulled half out and slowly slid back in and Paul forgot to think entirely as sensation washed over him. “Fuck, Richard.”

“That’s what I’m doing.”

The cold and all other thoughts were quickly forgotten and he concentrated only on the feeling Richard’s cock moving inside him, filling him. He’d had sex with a handful of other men, but none of them had ever managed to make him feel like this. When Richard gripped him, he felt like he was losing control and when Richard fucked him it was like the entire world came down to just that, Richard’s cock inside his ass.

“Richard.”

Richard bit his ear, “I know. You’re so fucking good, Paul, I’m gonna cum so hard.” Paul groaned and his ass clenched involuntarily in anticipation.

Richard was pulling him back to meet his thrusts and Paul dropped his head, groaning deeply as Richard held his hips in place, cumming inside of him. Lazily, Richard reached around and pulled Paul off, breathing warm gusts of air into his ear. It took a moment for Paul to come back to himself. He sagged against the wall and took several deep breathes, trying to collect himself.

They’d had sex, brilliant sex and Richard had been gentle and as perfect about it as he ever was. Paul looked at the pealing plaster in front of him. Why did he feel so dirty?

 


	10. Chapter 10

Mitch ran his tongue along the underside of Mickey’s cock.He pulled back the foreskin with his hand and rubbed the little ball of his piercing against the overly sensitive skin underneath.Almost instantly, he was rewards with a hand pressing his face down, forcing the head of the cock into his throat as Mickey came.

They’d been at this for over an hour, taking turns making him fuck or suck them.He’d had the distinct displeasure of having to suck off Jessie after he’d fucked him.Bastard hadn’t even bothered to clean himself off and the taste was still so strong in Mitch’s mouth that he knew he was going to vomit later.At least he’d managed to school his gag reflexes enough to stave off throwing up until everyone had finished.

Mickey kept Mitch’s head down over his limp cock while Tanner positioned himself behind Mitch, entering his slicked and stretched ass with ease.“Oh, Richard, I do love this kid.Every one of us can take him a dozen times and he’s still tight.”

The words didn’t mean anything to Mitch anymore.He didn’t even know how many times he’d heard them.Tanner wrapped his fingers in Mitch’s hair and used it to pull him off Mickey’s cock and drive him back to meet the vicious thrusts.It didn’t hurt as much as it used to, but that was almost worse.

Louis leaned over and kissed Mickey on the mouth, sweeping his tongue over his brother’s lips before turning his attention to Mitch.It was sick, debased and wrong and, worse yet, it no longer fazed Mitch in the least.Louis and Mickey were brothers and they had incestuous sex, but that wasn’t any worse than anything else that went on here.

Richard chuckled from where he was sitting at his desk and idly played with himself.It was surreal.In the past week, he hadn’t been awake longer than it took to have sex, eat food, or take a shower before Richard shoved more drugs in him that knocked him back out for an indeterminable amount of time.If it wasn’t for the calendar that Richard marked off on the wall, he wouldn’t have known it had been a week.Louis pulled on his nipple ring sharply, catching him off guard and he squeaked involuntarily.Each of them had their own habits and Mitch had learned them like the good little whore he was, because if he did, he could make some of them end quicker and others less violent.

Mickey liked to force people to give him pleasure, instead of just take it.On most occasions, he’d prefer to have Mitch ride him, or suck him off without touching him, which was just fine with Mitch.No matter how humiliated with it he had been before, he’d learned that when he controlled the sex, it was much less painful.

Louis liked to make his partners cum, especially when it was obvious they didn’t want it.That was a little harder for Mitch to handle, but as long as he was pliant and willing to show at least some kind of reserved pleasure, Louis would be gentle with him and that was always preferable to when Louis got mad and fucked him without preparation or thought.

At first, Mitch had thought that Tanner liked to dominate people, but that hadn’t been it at all and Mitch had figured that out the first time Tanner had come to one of Richard’s parties covered in bruises and welts.Tanner just liked violence.He didn’t care if he was inflicting it on someone, or if it was being inflicted on him, he just liked it.If Mitch at least tensed up, or gave some sign that he was unwilling, then Tanner got off quicker.

The thing about Tanner that confused Mitch was that Tanner appeared to like Paul and he’d do anything, even be gentle, if it were Paul he was fucking.The history between the two of them was confusing, but he knew that Tanner’s obsession ran deep and that half of the control Richard had over Tanner, was in his ability to control Paul.Sometimes, if Paul was around during sex, Tanner took it easy on him, but that also meant it lasted longer.

Jessie liked to dominate and he liked to make people hurt.When it really came down to it, Jessie didn’t care if he resisted, cried, or screamed, just so long as Mitch did what he was told.He particularly liked to make Mitch beg him to stop, but he liked it more when Mitch begged him to keep doing it, which Mitch did often enough, because the sooner Jessie got what he wanted, the sooner it was over.

Richard got off on control.It didn’t matter if Mitch scratched and bit and bled, or if he laid on the bed like a corpse, as long as Richard was in control of him.Unfortunately, that particular kink was what had caused Mitch so much pain lately, because Richard apparently felt so out of control in his life - what with the waitress getting pregnant and Paul storming off and refusing to participate in the parties - that he had taken it out on Mitch.There was a myriad of hand shaped bruises on his arms and legs in varying shades of yellow and green.

Tanner yanked his hair harder as he came and Mitch bit his lip as a few strands of hair were pulled from his scalp.When Tanner pulled out, Louis pushed him back so that he was leaning against Tanner and took his half hard cock into his mouth, gently sucking it.Slowly, Mitch felt his cock engorge and he moaned, letting Louis expertly suck him off.

Coming had become harder and harder to deal with.He knew that it was a physical reaction to stimulus, he knew it had little to do with what he wanted and that it didn’t mean he liked it, but that didn’t make it easier, especially when it was oral sex.At least with anal, there was pain behind it.His only consolation was that this meant they were almost finished with him.

Tanner pulled his hair again and he arched into Louis mouth.Almost there.Almost there and then it would be over, at least for tonight.With a muffled cry, he came in Louis’s mouth, closing his eyes against the humiliation as his cock was milked.

Mitch dropped to the bed when Louis moved away and Tanner let go of him.His body felt weak, but at least they were finished.Crawling up, he stumbled into the bathroom, ignoring Richard who patted his ass on his way past.He shut the door behind him and slid to the floor, cradling his head in his hands.It was over, it was over, it was over.

A wave of nausea ripped through him and he hurled himself across the bedroom and to the toilet just in time to miss throwing up on the floor.When the only thing left was dry heaves, he laid on his back and took deep breathes.Hm, the taste of the vomit was actual preferable to the taste that Jessie’s cock had left in his mouth.

Slowly, he sat up and looked at the tub.If he took a bath, the blood would just cloud the water and then he’d be soaking in it, but his legs were so weak, he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stand long enough to take a shower.Screw it, he didn’t have to stand the whole time, just long enough to get in there and turn on the water.

He turned the water hot enough to scald his skin bright red and sat down heavily under the spray. The door opened and Richard slipped through, shutting it behind him.Mitch looked at him, waiting.He must have had something to say, because he’d never made it a habit of staring at Mitch in the shower. When Richard didn’t say anything after a few minutes, Mitch couldn’t take the silence anymore.“What?”

“Nothing, I was just... considering something.Take your pill when you’re done and go to bed.”

He nodded and Richard shut the door, laughing at something someone said to him, but Mitch couldn’t make it out and he didn’t care to.

Less than a month.Less than a month and he’d be able to go home.

*****

Paul stared at the door to Richard’s apartment.He’d dropped Richard off at the airport at two that morning and been informed that it was up to him to tell Mitch what was going on.Pulling out a third cigarette, he lit it with a shaky hand.Richard had promised that as soon as he got back, he’d take care of Mitch, but that was potentially another month away and, to be honest, Paul knew how these things went.If they didn’t get behind schedule by at least a week, he’d stop smoking for good.

The other thing that worried him was the way he had said that he’d take care of Mitch and the way he’d kissed Paul and winked at him when Paul had tried to question it.Of course, that was just like him.When Richard didn’t want to talk about something, he wasn’t going to talk about it, but what was there about taking Mitch home that he didn’t want to talk about?Was it the threats?Was he planning to beat the kid before dropping him on his doorstep?Or was it that he wasn’t planning to drop him on his doorstep at all.With the other boys, he taken them back where he had gotten them, but Paul had already told him several times that he wasn’t going to let Richard drop Mitch off at Humps, the poor kid had been through enough already without having to deal with horny, doped up men tying to grope him in public.

Sucking the smoke, he rolled it around his mouth before breathing in and sighing.This really wasn’t getting him anywhere.Richard had said the drugs would have started to wear off by the time Paul got there and that meant that Mitch was probably sitting in there, disoriented and confused.

He stomach twisted as he thought about Richard’s instructions to keep the kid drugged over the next few weeks, especially if he went out.Paul had never questioned Richard’s instructions when it came to his boys, but... but Mitch was different.Mitch wasn’t some University brat that had had this coming, he was fifteen and Paul would be damned before he saw a grade-schooler addicted to sleeping pills.

He threw the cigarette on the ground and stomped it determinedly.Richard was gone and now Mitch was Paul’s responsibility and he’d bloody well see to it that Mitch wasn’t drugged, raped, or marked in any way.

“Someone looks pissed.”

He spun around, letting go of the handle to the door like it had burned him.“Millie!Oh... god, you scared me.”

She smiled up at him from the bottom of the stairs.“Sorry about that, it’s just that I’ve been watching you from my window and you’ve been standing here scowling for the past ten minutes.I thought you’d given up smoking?”

“I did, but your brother could drive just about anyone to bad habits.”

“Oh.So, where is my brother?”

Damnit, this was exactly what Richard had been talking about. Paul couldn’t think of a single other occasion when she’d bothered to come out here, let alone ask where Richard was.Usually, she was just happy that he was gone, so was she curious, or was she on to them, and if she was on to them, what exactly was she on to?Had she seen more than just random boys going in?

“He’s filming a movie in America.”

“Hm.”She looked behind her for a moment, before smiling up at him again and he suddenly realized it wasn’t a pleasant smile.It was more like the way a tiger might smile at a gazelle before attacking.“So, what are you doing here?”

Shit.“What’s gotten into you, Millie?”

“Nothing.”She threw her arms out, palms up.“Richard’s always so secretive and I’ve recently found myself curious, is all.I mean, if you guys are life partners or whatever, why does he go out to clubs still and why does he bring people back?”

“Millie...”

Her eyes hardened, but her smile didn’t waver.“And what about those other friends of his?I’ve watched before and you all go in at like four in the afternoon and don’t come out until two or three in the morning and you’re all so fucking hammered you can’t walk a straight line.Not to mention the fact that you have to come out at all.If you’re Richard’s boyfriend, why do you bother leaving?”

He opened his mouth again, but she shrugged and cut him off.“Not that it matters, or anything, I’m just... curious.What did you say you were doing here?”

His mind worked desperately for a plausible excuse.“Packing.You know, for the move.”

“Right, I’ll leave you to it, then.”

She turned around and practically sauntered away.Jesus fucking Christ, this was not going to be easy.He watched her leave, waiting until she was well out of sight before he opened the door.The smell of sex hit him like a bat upside the head.God, had they been at it all night?He looked around and saw the unmistakable signs that he was right.Three empty boxes of pizza on the floor, video game controllers strewn out in front of the television, cans of beer everywhere, and, of course, Mitch, curled up into the smallest possible ball, crammed into the corner of the bed and sleeping peacefully.In fact, he was sleeping too peacefully.

Stepping forward, Paul put a hand to the boy’s forehead and was relieved to feel warm skin under his palm.He was even more relieved when Mitch moaned and tried to pull away from the contact.Large eyes fluttered open and Mitch stared at Paul, his face void of expression as he worked his way through the drugged sleep.

“Paul?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”The dubious tone of Mitch’s voice sparked more unwanted guilt.He should have come to the party, but he just hadn’t been able to stomach it.Even the thought of going in there and staying sober, watching Mitch go through that, had made him almost physically ill, so he’d stayed away.Now, he didn’t think that had been such a good idea.

“What’r you doin’ ‘ere.”

Paul couldn’t help smiling at the jumbled slur.“Never mind that, how are you feeling?”

Mitch closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again.“M’tired, but m’not.”

“That’s the drugs wearing off.How about we get you into a shower and see how you feel then?”

Twenty minutes later and Paul was watching a ravenous Mitch, wide awake and pawing through a bag of chips.“Hungry, are you?”Mitch shrugged and then looked over, smiling brightly, but didn’t say anything.Not that he needed to.Chances were, Richard hadn’t bothered to wake him up for very many meals.If that were the case... “Stay put, okay?”

Locking the door behind him, he raced across the back yard, past the fruit trees, and through the back door of the house.The sound of Celtic Christmas music filled the living room over the intercom speakers.“Mrs. Guider?!”

After a moment, the music stopped and Richard’s mother came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel.She beamed when she saw Paul and rushed over to hug him.“Paul, dear, Millie told me you were over.How’s the packing coming?”

“I didn’t realize Richard had that much stuff in that little room.”She chuckled and motioned for him to follow her back into the kitchen.“I know it’s early, but I was wondering if maybe you had some left overs?I didn’t get a chance to eat dinner last night, so...”

She winked at him before going over to the fridge. “I’ll bet you didn’t.When was Richard’s plane supposed to land?”

“Around noon or one, I think.”

Mrs. Guider handed Paul a container filled with roast chicken and another small one with a thick, dark sauce in it.“I don’t know why I worry so much.He always calls me when he goes on these things.”

Paul shrugged and rummaged through the silverware drawer for a fork and a spoon.A small bag of rolls was placed in front of him, as well as another container, this one filled with green beans.“Thanks, Mrs. Guider, you’re the best.”

“Don’t thank me, you’re practically skin and bones.I’d be lax in my duty if I let me son’s... husband?”Paul laughed, embarrassed, but didn’t correct her, mostly because he wasn’t sure what to call himself, either.“Anyway, it’s my duty to make sure you’re well fed while he’s away.Besides, I’ll hardly see you once you move.”

He kissed her on the cheek and picked everything up. “Thanks again.”

She held the door for him and he hurried across the yard, fumbling with his key in the lock and barely managing to hold everything.Mitch was still sitting on the floor with the television off.The bag lay next to him, empty.Paul sat everything down in front of Mitch and went to the fridge, pulling out a soda.

“Eat up.”

Mitch opened the container of chicken and his mouth fell open.“Oh my.”

Paul chuckled, “You can heat it up if you want.”

Mitch shook his head and took out a piece, biting into it ravenously.For the past two and a half months he’d lived off pizza and hamburgers and chips, marked with the occasional take out fish and chips or Chinese food.The chicken tasted like heaven and he closed his eyes, reveling in the texture and the herbal flavor.

“Is it good?”

He nodded and Paul pushed over the rest of the containers.Mitch smiled sublimely at the green beans and rolls.He hated green beans, but it had been so long since he’d eaten vegetables, that he would have welcomed zucchini at this point.Swallowing thickly, he turned to Paul and felt his face flush slightly. “Thanks.”

Part of Mitch felt abandoned by Paul.The last few weeks had been horrible, Richard had been more abusive than ever, and he’d been more inclined to let Jessie have a go whenever he felt like it.The other part of him was surprisingly thankful.There were so many things he had done without putting up any kind of fight and somehow the idea of Paul seeing him submitting to Richard and the others was more humiliating than the acts themselves.Still, it was nice to have Paul there, to be alone with him again.When it was just him and Paul, he didn’t have to worry.He could relax.

He watched Paul fish through the blankets on the bed and then under the bed until he came up with the remote for television.“Let’s watch something and relax, then you can play around and I’ll clean, okay?”

Mitch nodded emphatically and bit into another peace of chicken... which went immediately dry in his mouth as the television came on to a picture of a Christmas tree.It was only a week and a half until Christmas.He’d hoped he’d be home in time for it, even if he’d known that the odds were slim.

“Paul?”Paul looked over and Mitch could see the strain in the man’s face.“Do you think... will I be home in time for it, do you think?It’s almost been three months.Do you think Richard would let me?”

There was a lengthy silence and Paul paused the television.“Mitch, I don’t really know how to tell you this, but, well it’s a case of good news, bad news, really.”

“What do you mean?”

“Richard got a part in a movie, they’ve started pre-production and he went to England to film it.He won’t be back for three to four weeks.”Mitch could see Paul physically bracing for an attack, but he didn’t much feel like attacking, he just felt... numb.

“Oh.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Paul cringe. “I’m... god, I’m sorry, Mitch.”Paul looked down and picked at the carpet.“He’ll have to take you home as soon as pre-production is over, okay?I mean, filming’ll start soon after and that can go on for months, so...”

Months?A sob came out of Mitch’s throat before he could stop it, because he had long ago realized beyond a shadow of a doubt that he knew Richard Carter better than Paul ever had.If Richard were going to let the filming of a movie force him to take Mitch home, he would have done it already.Months.He’d miss his mom’s birthday.He’d miss his cousin Alley’s graduation.Would he be home in time to take his finals?Not that he’d be able to take finals, because...

Paul wrapped his arms around him and Mitch realized that hot tears were flowing freely down his face and he was whimpering.He hadn’t even realized he was crying.Without thinking about it, he threw his arms around Paul and let himself go.He was vividly reminded of a time, early on in his captivity, when he’d sought this kind of comfort and it had come from Richard.He hadn’t cared who held him then, but he cared now.He cared that it was Paul, because when it was Richard, he had felt vaguely sick, now he only felt relieved.

He wasn’t sure how long it took him to run out of tears, but when he did, he became aware of Paul rocking him, stroking his hair and mumbling.“Sh, it’ll be okay, I promise.Sh, sh, please.It’ll be better.Richard’s gone, so no parties, okay?No more of the others.It’s just you and me for the next few weeks.We’ll play games and watch movies and I’ll... I’ll bring you home-cooked meals.”

“Will you cook them yourself?”

Paul chuckled and his hand didn’t stop stroking Mitch’s hair.“I would, but I’m a horrible cook.How about I ask my mother to make something tomorrow and I’ll bring you the left overs.She always makes twice as much as we can eat, anyway.”

Mitch sighed and relaxed into Paul’s chest.It was like having a broad, firm pillow under his head, only it smelled masculine in a way that was distinctly Paul.“I’d like soup.”

“She makes a spectacular tomato basil.”

“That sounds nice.”

There really wasn’t anything left to be said, but Mitch didn’t want to let go of Paul just yet.It was nice, having someone to hold him, someone he trusted.Paul had said no parties.He’d said none of Richard’s other friends would come over.Besides, Mitch hadn’t really expected to get home by Christmas; it had just been some silly hope.He wasn’t even sure he was going to get home at all. There was so much about Richard that terrified him and made him think that this wasn’t all he was capable of.

He turned his head to bury it in Paul’s chest and breathed deep.At this point, he’d take what he could get and be happy with it, especially if that something included Paul.

*****

Paul listening to Mitch’s deep, even breathing next to him.In the three days since Richard had left, Mitch had thrived, becoming happier, more talkative, eating full meals.He’d even managed to put a few pounds on him, which was a relief, because while the other boys had lost considerable weight as well, it somehow looked worse on Mitch.Maybe it was because Mitch had been so small to begin with.

Before, he’d had no comparison to how Mitch had behaved in the past and it was easier to imagine that his reluctance to talk and glum attitude were normal.Having talked to Cynthia and watching Mitch over the past few days, it was becoming painfully obvious that he had never before been the sullen type.In fact, according to Cynthia, he’d always been the kind of person that stood out in crowds and made people notice him.It worried him that Mitch could become so different in such a short time.

He wrapped his arm more firmly around the boy cuddled up next to him.Mrs. Guider had fixed baked salmon and rice pilaf, which Mitch had happily inhaled, then they’d settled down to watch a movie and the kid had quickly fallen asleep.Paul wasn’t watching the movie either anymore, but he was afraid that if he moved, he’d wake up Mitch and it was better to let the kid sleep for now.

That was another thing that disturbed him, the amount of time Mitch spent sleeping.Not that there was anything else to do, but Cynthia had said Mitch was active and Paul almost wished that he could see that.Almost, because as soon as Mitch left, Paul was going to stay the hell away from him.What the kid needed was a normal life, free from any reminders of what he had been through.

_ “So, this makes us friends, right?” _

Paul froze for a moment as the sound of Cynthia’s voice filled the room.

_ “So, this makes us friends, right?” _

Shit!Mitch stirred as Paul struggled to get his phone out of his back pocket without waking him.

_ “So, this makes us friends, right?” _

Mitch lifted his head and blinked his eyes open.“Cynthia?”

God damn it!Finally, Paul gave up trying to be discrete and just stood up, dumping a confused Mitch on the bed as he ran for the door.

_ “So, this makes u...” _

“Hello?”He shut the door behind him and closed his eyes, hoping the kid wouldn’t rush it.

“Hey, Paul, it’s Cynthia.”

There was no sound of movement from inside the room and he relaxed against the door.“Hey, how are you doing?”

“Good, only I just saw something on the news that has me a little... confused.”

“What?”Did the police have clues?Was Richard or himself a suspect?

“I just saw a segment where they said that Richard Carter had come out of the closet and that his life partner was... well, you.”

Oh, that.Richard hadn’t told him when he was planning on telling the media, but apparently, he’d already done it.Damnit, it would have been nice of him to let Paul know.“Yeah, um, that’s... that’s right.I am Richard Carter’s life partner.”

“Oh,” she paused, “because you told me that you weren’t gay and we did... well, let’s just say I wouldn’t expect a gay man to be able to perform, I guess.”

So they _had_ had sex.“Look, I’m really, really sorry.I’d had a fight with Richard that night and I was damned and determined to get drunk and, as per usual, I have now made an ass of myself.”She didn’t say anything for a moment and he sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Can we go out tonight and, I don’t know, talk?”

She wanted to go out?“Why?”

Cynthia chuckled and even though it sounded stained, it wasn’t unfriendly.“I like you and if we can’t be anything else, I’d like us to be friends.Besides, at least I know it’s not me, it’s my vagina.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, mostly in relief.He wouldn’t mind being friends with her, either.“Yeah, we can go out.I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Thanks.”

She hung up the phone and he looked at it for a moment.So, she wanted to be friends.He’d never managed to be friends with a girl before, either they wanted something else, or he fucked it up from the start.With a shake of his head, he stepped back inside the room.Mitch was still sitting on the bed, much in the same disheveled position he’d left him in.

“Was that Cynthia?”

Paul considered lying, but he wanted Mitch to trust him, “Yes.”

Mitch sat back a little and pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them.“She has your number?”

“Remember, the night me and Richard fought over that waitress?”He waited for Mitch to nod before continuing. “I went out drinking at a club and she was there.Honestly, I think she came here looking for you, but she hasn’t said as much.”

For several seconds, he thought Mitch was going to cry again, but then the kid nodded and put his chin on his knees.It was impossible to read what was going on behind those eyes, but he could guess that it was a combination of confusion and concern.Paul sat on the bed and wrapped an arm around Mitch’s shoulder before he could pull away.“I don’t want to be mean, Mitch, but... well, she isn’t going to find you.She’s guessed that it was Richard you were seen dancing with, but she assumes you left alone or with someone else.”

Mitch nodded and to Paul’s surprise, no tears sprang to his eyes at the thought that his chance to be rescued was cut off.Instead, he seemed more determined.“I don’t...” he bit his tongue ring, pulling it between his teeth. “I don’t want her to get hurt.”

Paul hugged Mitch tighter, “She won’t.Richard doesn’t know who she is or that she has any connection with you and I’m not telling him.”Why wasn’t he telling Richard?His entire life he’d always run to Richard with problems, he’d always told him everything.Why was it that he didn’t trust Richard with this?“I’m not going to drag her into this, okay?Now you get some sleep.”

“Where are you going?”

“Out, I’ll be back in a few hours, okay?”He turned around and walked out without a second glance.

  


*****

“So this is called what, again?”

“A Buttery Nipple.”

She giggled and swiped at his arm, but took a deep breath and downing it, shuddering at the after taste of alcohol.

Paul chuckled as she looked at the little shot glass between her fingers.“Good?”

“It’s... kind of sweet.”

“Like you.”He winked at her before taking a large gulp of his beer.

She blushed, but nodded. “Like me.”

Paul tilted his head sideways and took her in, flushed face and all.He had pulled up to her apartment to find her waiting for him outside, wearing low ride jeans and a brown, sparkly shirt that made the blue in her hair stand out, she had on thick boots and very little makeup, and her hair was down, hanging around her face and making her look so incredibly young.In fact, if it wasn’t for the fact that he had already slept with her, he would have refused to buy her alcohol.

Still, she was nice and she seemed to brush off his verbal blunders without holding them against him.“You know, I’m really glad you still want to be friends. Most of the time I make an ass of myself in front of girls and they never want to see me again.”

“I would have thought that was on purpose, so you wouldn’t have to commit.”For a moment, he wasn’t sure what she was talking about.“I mean, what with you being with Richard and everything, I assumed that all that public dating was nothing more than a stunt to throw the media off.”

Shit.“Yeah, well, they were, it’s just... the other girls never really wanted to be friends or anything.”God, he was making an even bigger ass of himself, no wonder Richard didn’t like him getting drunk when he was out on his own.“You know how they always show gay men on television surrounded by girls?That’s not me, I’ve always wondered why.”

Cynthia nudged him with her shoulder.“Probably because if they asked you whether their butt looked big you’d say yes.You are a very honest man, Paul Zalinsky, I like that about you.”

If he hadn’t been acting for years, his smile would have been strained.“Paul Gerring, actually.Zalinksy was my grandmother’s maiden name.”

Cynthia played with the rim of her shot glass and Paul watched her long finger nails in fascination.They were painted orange and the polish had chipped on several of them, but somehow that made it look... real and honest, unlike so many of the people he’d met over the years.“Bartender, can you get the lady a Sex on the Beach and I think I need a martini.”

The bartender looked dubiously at her, as he had the last three times Paul ordered her a drink, but made it and put it in front of her, going to fix Paul’s drink.Cynthia looked at it for a moment, “So, what’s in this?”

“I have no idea, but I like it.”

With a determined smile, she tipped it towards him and then took a large drink, her face puckering greatly.“Oh, my god, that is awful!”

Paul took a sip of his martini and then pushed it towards her, trying not to laugh.“I think we’re going to need a Sprite after this.”

Cynthia nodded, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.“So, Paul, how long have you known Richard?”

“Why?”His heart had jumped into his throat.He’d been dodging Millie’s questions for days and he’d just drunk two beers and was starting on a martini.Of course, she’d had three shots of hard liquor, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t think corners around him.

“Well, last time we talked, I told you all about me.I guess I just wanted to know a little bit about you.Besides, it’s not every day you get to talk with a tabloid headline.”Thanking the bartender, she sipped her Sprite.

Paul considered telling her he didn’t want to talk about Richard, but the truth was he did.His entire life there hadn’t been a single person he could talk to about Richard; he hadn’t had many other friends and the ones he did have were Richard’s friends as well, and considering the kinds of things he wanted to talk about, his parents were out of the question.Cynthia continued to smile at him and he hunched over in his seat, melting at the chance to get some of this off his shoulders.

“Richard and I met in elementary school, much like you and Mitch.I was always getting bullied around and Richard swooped in and saved me.He’s always been there for me, my whole life you know?If I was worried about a test, he would stop whatever he was doing, he’d cancel a date, or he’d skip out on going places with his parents just so that he could help me.If I got in trouble, he was always there to get my out of it, because he was always very good at that.I... I love him, I do, but...”

She listened quietly and waited patiently while Paul tried to gather his thoughts.There was so much that he wanted to tell her and so much that he couldn’t, if only for her own safety.He’d told Mitch he wasn’t going to get her involved in this and he had meant it.

“Sometimes he does things, things I can’t even begin to understand.”

“Like what?”Glancing at her, he didn’t see anything devious in her sincere gaze.

“Like Tanner.Tanner’s this friend of Richard’s and I don’t really like him.See, he kind of gets off on hurting people or having them hurt him and I’m not into that, especially not when it comes to sex, but Tanner’s got this crush on me, has since forever.”He set down his martini and tapped on the bar, motioning for the bartender to get him another.“So, Richard throws these parties and he keeps making me and Tanner have sex, like he gets off on it, or something, and I don’t know why I go along with it.No, you know what, I do - it’s because of the drugs.That’s another thing.”

He nodded his thanks to the bartender and took a large sip.“Richard does these crazy drugs. I don’t even know what they’re called or what they really do, but they make... they make me want to have sex.It’s like my skin is crawling for it and when I get like that it doesn’t matter that it’s Tanner.God, this is so messed up.”

She hadn’t said anything and there was no recrimination or disgust that he could see - only concern and curiosity.Paul had always had a low tolerance for alcohol, at least, lower than the others, and he should have stopped after one beer, but it was nice to have someone to listen to him and an excuse to say things he wanted to say.

Cynthia wasn’t sure where this was going, but she got the feeling that it was going somewhere she wanted to be.When they’d broken off a week ago, she’d known there was more to Paul than he was saying.She hadn’t been lying about him being honest, but, more importantly, he was a horrible liar.God only knew how he managed to act, but there was something in the way he shifted from one foot to the other and kept looking to the side, as if checking who might be listening, that told her he did remember the night Mitch disappeared and there was something he wasn’t telling her.

“Then there’s Richard’s boys.”

Bingo.“Boy’s?”

“Well, not boys, young men, really.He picks them up at bars and takes them back to his place and they... live with him a few months before he sends them home.”

His feet were propped up on the bottom of the stool, but she could see him moving them and he’d looked up to make sure the bartender wasn’t too near.Of course, it could just be that Richard was a celebrity and he was nervous about anyone getting gossip on him.“It must really bother you.”

“Huh?”

“He’s been your boyfriend, or, well, life partner for years.It must bother you that Richard thinks he needs someone other than you.”

There was a pause that lasted just half a second too long.“Yeah, it does.”

It was the hesitancy that cinched it for her.It wasn’t that Richard was fucking someone else that bothered Paul, but she’d be damned if she knew what the actual problem was.“Hey, let me have a taste of that martini.”


	11. Chapter 11

It was too bright and his phone was too loud.Paul rolled over, bumping into Mitch, who was laying between him and bedside table.The ringer went off again and he instantly recognized Louis’s voice.What the fuck?He reached over Mitch and picked up his phone, answering it with, “Hey.”

“How’s the babysitting going?”

Paul looked over at Mitch, who was stretching half under him, his lithe arms pulled over his head, his hair jostled on the pillow.He looked like an angel swallowed in oversized blankets.“It’s going fine.So, what’s up?”

“Me and the boys were thinking we’d head over in a few hours.”

That got his attention.He sat up quickly, “You what?Why?”

“We were bored, thought maybe we’d have a party tonight.I know Richard’s gone, but...”

“That’s precisely the point, Louis, Richard isn’t here.”He heard Mitch gasp next to him and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture.“I’m not throwing any parties while Richard’s gone.”

Louis chuckled nervously on the other end of the phone.“What’s wrong, Paul?”

Shoving the blankets off him, he stormed out the door, flinching as his bare feet fell on cold wood and the harsh light bettered his eyes.It was unseasonably cold for December.Probably fifty degrees out and it had to be nearly noon.“I’ll tell you what’s wrong, Louis.He’s fifteen and Richard may have been okay with that, but I’m not.”

“Paul...”

“No.I’m not letting you touch him while I’m in charge.”

“Listen, I know what you’re thinking, but what does it matter?We aren’t going to do anything we haven’t done before.”

He closed his eyes, just managing to reign in his anger.“Don’t you get it, Louis?You keep using the kid without realizing that that’s what it is, using.He has to go home eventually and he has to take all this back with him.I’m not giving him anymore nightmares to live with.”

Louis was quiet on the other end for several moments and Paul thought perhaps he had finally gotten through to him.“Paul, Richard can’t take him home.”

Paul felt his body temperature drop several degrees, making him numb with the implication.“What?”

“Come on, Paul, think about this.It would have gotten out by now.”

“What would have gotten out?”

“Never mind.Look, if you don’t want us coming over, we won’t, but if you decide you need company give me a ring.”

Before Paul could say anything, Louis ended the call.Damnit!

*****

Mitch had woken at the sound of Paul’s phone going off.Louis’s voice.He knew why Louis was calling, but forced himself to pretend to be asleep, hoping Paul would sleep through it.Would they come over even if they couldn’t get a hold of him?However, luck was not on his side and he felt Paul reach over him, taking the phone off the bedside table and answering it briskly.

He tried to tell himself that Paul had said he wouldn’t let them come over, but what if they were persistent?As far as Mitch could tell, Richard’s hold on Paul only extended to Richard himself, but what if he was wrong?

“That’s precisely the point, Louis, Richard isn’t here.”

Mitch couldn’t help but gasp, Paul sounded angry.Could he mean what Mitch thought he meant?A hand rested on his shoulder and he opened his eyes, watching Paul’s sneering face with wonder.He did, he was telling Louis they couldn’t come over.Suddenly, Paul threw the blankets off and stormed out the door, without bothering to put on a shirt or a pair of shoes.

Getting up lazily, Mitch went into the bathroom and turned the water on just hotter than he could comfortably stand.Getting under the spray, he gritted his teeth and began scrubbing his skin with a hard sponge that Richard had bought for him.He looked at the sponge, his skin going numb under the hot water.Another month of this.Another month of taking fruitless showers that couldn’t clean him.Another month of sitting in bed, watching television and eating junk food.Well, okay, not so much junk food, because Paul was bringing him real meals, but still...

Mitch looked down at his ribs bemoaningly.He’d just started working out a few weeks before Richard took him and his abdomen had started to tone up, even his legs had shown some definition.Now, all that hard work was gone.He wasn’t sure how much he’d lost, but he knew it was substantial.His ribs were starkly defined and it wasn’t like it was on purpose, it was just that he couldn’t keep anything down.Or, at least, he hadn’t been able to until Paul had started taking care of him.Now he thought he might have gained a few pounds and he wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

The door opened and he closed his eyes, grabbing the shampoo bottle and lathering his hair.He wasn’t sure why the way he looked suddenly bothered him now.For the past few months he had been content to ignore his physical shape in lieu of trying to simply deal with the reality of his situation, but something about being there with Paul, being _alone_ with Paul made him self-conscience.

Was there really any reason to be self-conscious, though?Paul seemed to like having sex with men, but that was only ever with Richard or when he was high.What if Paul was straight?Mitch knew only a fraction of how far Richard’s control over Paul went, so what if it extended to his sexuality, as well?Cynthia.Cynthia had called Paul last night, which meant he had given her his number, and, more importantly, Paul had gone to her.Did that mean Paul liked Cynthia? 

He stood there for several minutes, letting the steaming water wash over him, before he reached over and turned the faucet off.The mirror was completely fogged over, which was fine with him, because he didn’t really want to see himself anyway.His hair had grown since he’d gotten there.It used to hang just below his ear, now it was nearly long enough to cup his jaw.Hm, what would his parents think of that?

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he went into the room to get his clothes.Paul was sitting at the desk, his head in his hands.He had looked up and smiled. “Hey, kid.”

There was that word again.‘Kid.’He’d noticed in the last few days that Paul really did think of him as a kid, but then Mitch supposed he really was as far as physical age was concerned.He hadn’t filled out like Paul or Richard, he was still awkwardly skinny, even when he’d been home, eating his weight in food twice a day.

Kneeling in front of the open closet, he sifted through the laundry basket of his clean clothes.Finally, he settled on a pair of black sweat pants and a plain white t-shirt.Richard had tried to convince him to get something other then plain colored shirts, but he hardly worn those outside of this room and it wasn’t like he had anyone to impress, anyway.

“Mitch, you okay?”

He looked over at Paul sharply, but saw only concern.“Yeah, I’m fine.Still waking up, is all.” It wasn’t Paul’s fault that he saw Mitch as a kid, the man was only trying to do what he thought was right.The problem was that what Paul thought was right was clashing terribly with what Mitch thought was right.Paul wanted to do the honorable thing and not touch Mitch, but Mitch wanted nothing more than for Paul to touch him.

“You want to watch television?”

Mitch turned his back to Paul and dropped his towel, pulling the sweats and shirt on slowly to give Paul enough time to watch.“I don’t think I’m up for television right now.Maybe we could just sit here and read or something?”

After a minute, Paul nodded, but the concern hadn’t left his slightly creased eyebrows.He didn’t wanted to worry Paul, but he was sick to death of television, even if it meant he missed a chance to cuddle up close with Paul.Two hours passed with Paul sitting at the desk, surfing the internet and Mitch laying on the bed reading _Interview with a Vampire._ His parents had said it was too violent for him, but Richard didn’t have any such reservations.

His vision started to blur and he sat up on the bed, pressing his hands over his eyes.Fuck, he was tired and he’d only been awake for a little while.Paul saw Mitch sit up out of the corner of his eye and turned to look at him. “You okay?”

Mitch shrugged, “I don’t think I can read anymore.”

The lower part of Paul’s stomach clenched pleasantly at the site of Mitch’s slightly rumpled hair, his lips pushed forward in a fetching pout.“What do you want to do?”

“Sleep?”

Getting up from the computer, Paul sat on the bed next to Mitch, “It’s the middle of the day, you can’t go to sleep yet.How about we watch something?”Without waiting for an answer, he picked up the remote and turned on the television, flicking through the channels.He tried to ignore the fact that Mitch was intently watching him, party because it was disconcerting, but mostly because he knew what he’d see in the boy’s eyes if he looked back.

“Are you sleeping with Cyn?”

Okay, maybe he hadn’t known.Looking over, he saw Mitch chewing the left corner of his lower lip expectantly.“I... Well... that is to say, we slept together once, but that was a few weeks ago.”

He stopped chewing his lip for a moment, only to start in on the right side.“Right.Do you like her?”

Paul thought about it for a moment, trying to decide what he should say.He did like her, but he didn’t think he liked her like that.Although, to be honest, the way he felt about her was different than anything he had ever felt for a girl.It could be just friendship, or it could be more, but right now, he couldn’t afford to analyze it.When Mitch went home, Paul was going to cut off contact with them both.He decided to stick to the truth, or at least part of it.

“We’re just friends, Mitch, nothing more.I won’t let her...”

He was interrupted by Mitch lunging forward and pressing his mouth to Paul’s, kissing him with a clumsy kind of determination that was far more erotic that it had any right being.He wanted to push Mitch away, but the truth was he wanted to kiss him back more and his better senses were not winning out.Before he could stop himself, his hand was on the back of Mitch’s head and he found himself pushing Mitch, not away, but onto his back so that he could lay over him and press their bodies together.

Mitch parted his legs without hesitation and Paul could feel the familiar press of a half hard cock against his hips as he settled between them.God, this was wrong.Mitch moaned into his mouth as Paul slipped his tongue between the eagerly opening lips and the small body arched against him.Fifteen, he’s fifteen years old.He ran a hand down Mitch’s side, and slipped it under his shirt, feeling the smooth, warm skin.Mitch whimpered, but unlike every other time he’d heard the boy cry out, there was no mistaking the sound for anything other than pleasurable.

Sliding his hand up the boy’s bare abdomen, he moved to pinch one of Mitch’s nipples and felt his fingers brush against something metal.He stopped breathing, stopped kissing, stopped all movement except the careful examination of what felt like a piercing, but that couldn’t be right, because Mitch hadn’t had any piercings the last time he’d seen him naked... which was before the damned tongue ring.

Pulling back, he ignored Mitch’s little noises of frustration and pushed the shirt up, revealing the little round loop hanging from Mitch’s chest.A little oval ball of green sat at the bottom of it and inside of that, Paul could see a little grain of rice.He was terrified of what it would say.How much could they fit on one of those things?Was ‘property of Richard’ too much?

He leaned down and lifted it with his finger, looking at the black words imprinted on the small grain.‘Mitchell-dear.’God, that was almost as bad, worse maybe, because at least ‘property of’ would have been ownership, this was just some sick, subtle reminder that no one else would understand.

Mitch moved away, pulling the little ring out of Paul’s slack grip and pushed his shirt down back down over his chest.“I’m sorry... I didn’t... Richard...”

Paul looked up at Mitch and something inside of him melted.Mitch’s lip was quivering just slightly and his eyes were brighter than normal.He was on the verge of crying, which he hadn’t done since Richard first left.Paul pulled Mitch to him and held him. “No, Mitch, I’m not mad at you.I’m not.It’s Richard, okay?He’s never been like this before, he’s never hit his boys, or pierced them, or... god, I’m so sorry, Mitch.”

Mitch’s breath hitched, “Sorry for what?You didn’t do anything.”

That was exactly the problem, he hadn’t done anything.He should have tried harder at Humps to convince Richard to move onto someone else.He should have grabbed the kid and taken him home before that first party.He should have done a thousand things, but he’d done nothing.

_ It would have gotten out by now. _

He couldn’t think about that right now, if he did, he’d do something stupid, like take the kid home.Shutting off what he was quickly coming to realize was the rational part of his mind, he pushed Mitch away from him, looking at the reddened eyes and smiled playfully. “I guess Cynthia was right, you do have delicate emotions.”

Mitch sniffed deeply and straightened himself, rubbing the tears roughly off his cheek. “I do not.”

Paul chuckled, “Better?”

“Yeah.”Mitch gave a ghost of a smile.“Hey, Paul?”

“Hm?”

“Can we... keep going?”When Paul didn’t immediately answer, Mitch started talking quickly, tripping over his words.“I know... I mean, I get that I’m a kid and that I’m... used and you can do better, but, I like you.At least, I think I do... no, I _do_ , but it’s hard to think properly about anything in here.I...”He faltered and looked down at his knees before looking back at Paul. “I want to.”

Paul couldn’t even begin to formulate a thought around that.Mitch was asking him to have sex with him?He wanted to?“You want to?”

The kid’s cheeks went bright pink, but he didn’t look away.“Yes, I want to.You said...” he bit his lip before continuing, “you said that it was about trust and that I had to trust the person I was with.Well, I trust you.You’ve never hurt me.You don’t like what they’re doing and, yeah, you won’t let me go, but at least you aren’t throwing me at them like... like I’m a toy.I just... I need to know that it isn’t always like that.I want to know what it would be like with someone... someone like you.”

He trailed off and Paul was at a complete loss for words.Mitch trusted him?How the hell could the kid trust any of them after everything he’d been through?It was unfathomable, it was absurd and what made it worse was that Paul was sure it was the truth.Mitch did trust him and he did want to have sex with him, but Paul had said he’d make sure the kid wasn’t raped while he was there and wasn’t that what this would be if he went through with it?Oh, he had no doubt that Mitch would see it as consensual, but there really weren’t any other options open to him at the moment, were there?

Mitch shifted nervously. “If you don’t want to, just say so.”

Damn it.He reached forward and cupped Mitch’s jaw in his hand, careful not to grip it and he studied the boy’s face for any kind of hesitation, anything that would indicate he wasn’t absolutely sure.There was nothing there besides hope and didn’t Mitch need something to hope for?

With a resigned sigh, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Mitch’s in a soft kiss.Mitch closed his eyes and relaxed into it, relieved.Paul’s tongue swept into his mouth and he moaned, sucking on it eagerly and pushing his tongue back against it. The hand on his face slid to the back of his head and settled at his neck without force and the warmth of it sent chills down Mitch’s spine.This was what a kiss was supposed to be.

Paul pulled away long enough to lift Mitch’s shirt off over his head and throw it carelessly to the side before kissing him again.Mitch put his hands on Paul’s chest, feeling the firm muscles under his fingers.Paul tensed slightly and Mitch ran his hands down, feeling Paul’s tone abdomen quiver slightly as he moved lower.Reaching for the drawstring of the Paul’s night pants, Mitch found that he fumbled a little on the knot, unwilling to break off the kiss to look down and see what he was doing.

Paul reached a hand down and pushed Mitch’s away gently, pulling back from the kiss. “Lay back.”

The bed felt cool against his warm back, but Paul was over him almost immediately, kissing him again and driving all other thoughts from his mind.Mitch moaned eagerly as Paul began kissing down his body, sucking gently and leaving little red marks on his chest and abdomen until he got to the line of Mitch’s pants.Quickly, he undid the string and pulled the pants and underwear down over the boy’s hips.

Mitch closed his eyes and pressed his head into the bed as Paul licked the head of his leaking cock.“God, Mitch you’re so fucking hot.”

“‘M not.”Mitch felt himself blushing, taken aback by the compliment.Paul, with his tone body and broad shoulders was sexy. Richard, with his rugged good looks was sexy.Even Tanner, with his limber movements was sexy.Mitch was short and scrawny and there wasn’t anything sexy about him. 

Paul kissed down the shaft of his penis and then stopped, waiting until Mitch looked up at him.“You are.”

Without hesitation, he dropped his head, burying his nose in the dark blonde pubic hair as he swallowed Mitch’s cock into the back of his throat.It wasn’t large, per say, but then it wasn’t small.In fact, for a fifteen-year-old, it was rather impressive, standing at a slender seven inches.He squeezed Mitch’s thighs and cupped his balls in one hand, kneading them while he bobbed his head up and down, moaning around the head of the cock.

Mitch arched his back.Louis had sucked his cock often enough, even Tanner had done it once, after Jessie had injected something into Mitch’s nipple that made him beg for any contact, hard or soft, pain or pleasure, but it had never been like this.Even on the drugs there had been a sense of deep shame that wasn’t present now and when Paul stroked him, touched him, it made his body sing.

His balls tightened as his orgasm built and Paul pulled his head up. “I want to fuck you.”

Mitch found himself whimpering at the confession.“Do it.”

Paul shook his head, “Not yet.”He sat up, reaching over Mitch for the bedside table and pulling the little bottle of lubricant out of the drawer.A moment later, two fingers pressed against his ass and he bit his lip against the shudder than ran through him as they slipped in.Paul moved them achingly slow, twisting them inside Mitch until they brushed against his prostate.

He heard a chuckle from between his legs and his already pink faced turned bright red.How could this be so embarrassing when Richard and the others had done so much worse?For god’s sake, Richard had rimmed him and suddenly he was embarrassed that Paul had a few fingers up his ass?Paul’s mouth was back around his cock, sucking and making lewd slurping noises.He crooked his fingers inside of Mitch, rubbing them against the little gland again and Mitch’s orgasm crashed over him, washing away all other sensation, making him cry out from the intensity and leaving him panting.

Paul swallowed, sucking for several more seconds before moving back up Mitch’s body, leaving a wet trail of saliva as he ran his tongue along the middle of Mitch’s chest.When he positioned himself and pushed in, slow and steady, Mitch clutched at his arms, not sure whether he wanted him to back off or go faster.His whole body was still painfully sensitive and his ass quivered around the welcome intruder.

The tight purse of Paul’s balls fell against his ass cheeks and Paul stopped moving.He put a hand on Mitch’s face and tipped it back, kissing Mitch, his tongue twisting around Mitch’s mouth and moving it in and out in a parody of sex.“You’re so tight, Mitch.You feel me inside you?You feel how big I am for you?”

It should have been silly, like something out of a porno, but somehow in that moment, coming from Paul it sounded perfect.He nodded, “Yeah.”

“Can I fuck you?”

It was another of those silly questions - the man had his cock buried in Mitch’s ass and he had to ask if it was okay? - but again it sounded strangely comforting.“Yes, god, please.”

Paul pulling back and pushing in again was like cool salve on a burn.He cried out and his wilted erection twitched, stiffening as Paul continued to fuck him, his strokes becoming longer and harder with each thrust.By the time Paul lifted Mitch’s legs onto his shoulder, doubling him over and began to truly fuck him in earnest, Mitch’s cock was once again standing at full attention and leaking droplets of fluid down his shaft.

One of Paul’s hands moved between their bodies and wrapped around Mitch’s cock, pulling him off as Paul slammed into him.Mitch locked his ankles around Paul’s neck and clenched his jaw, unable to control the scream of pleasure that ripped out of him as he came a second time.Paul pushed into him and stopped, his cock pulsating as he came deep inside Mitch before collapsing on top him.

They laid there for some time, panting and shaking with exhaustion.The pleasant fog that had settled over Mitch’s mind started to clear, but he tightened his grip around Paul’s neck.He didn’t want this to end just yet.At the movement, Paul moaned and pulled out of Mitch, rolling off him languidly.Mitch’s heart sank into his stomach, but Paul, unlike Richard, wasn’t interested in getting out of the bed or rolling over and ignoring Mitch, pretending he was a whore that had out lived his usefulness for the evening.Instead, Paul put his arms around Mitch, drawing the boy to him so that Mitch’s face was pressed against his chest and Mitch had never felt so protected in all his life.He closed his eyes and welcomed sleep, comforted in the arms of the man that he loved.

*****

The next morning found Paul lying on the bed, sated and content.They had gotten up early and taken a shower.Paul had told himself that the sex would only be that one time, just to show Mitch that it didn’t have to be painful and degrading, that it could be wonderful.It was easy enough to tell Mitch ‘no’ in his head, but when the boy was naked and slicked with soap, sidling up to him and breathing sweet, dirty words into his ear ... well, that was another matter entirely.

In the shower, Paul had taken his time, kissing Mitch breathless and nearly suffocating him with what he was reluctant to call love, but felt quite a bit like it, or what he imagined it should be.The boy’s skin was silky smooth under his hands and his voice, heavy with lust was the most beautiful sound Paul had ever heard.Afterwards they had retired to the bed and Paul had watched television, his arm slung loosely around Mitch, who was reading his book and listening to his iPod, a grin on his face that showed more contentment than Paul had ever seen on the boy.

He watched Mitch turn the page, his feet bobbing in the air in time with the muffled music and chuckled. Mitch looked up at him, his grin replaced with a wary look of concern.He pulled the headphone out of his ear and sat up. “Is something wrong?”

Paul shook his head and stretched his hands behind his head.“No.”He felt like doing something nice, something that would make the boy smile again.“How many songs do you have on that thing?”

Mitch looked at the pink mini-iPod.“Um, it might be about half full, I suppose.Richard bought it for me and set me at the desk to get music, but...”He trailed off and Paul could see the memories of whatever had happened that night playing in the boy’s mind.

“Well, then, I think it’s about time we fill it up.”

He got off the bed and took Mitch’s hand, pulling him off the bed and setting him at the desk.Mitch looked up at him with wide eyes and Paul leaned over the boy, turning on the computer.While he waited for it to boot up, he tipped Mitch’s face back and kissed him, drawing it out until he heard the familiar chimes as the computer finished logging in.The pink tint of Mitch’s cheeks was satisfying and he almost took the boy back to bed right then, but just as he leaned back in to kiss Mitch again, his phone rang and the voice it rang with was like ice being poured over his crotch

_ “Paul, buddy, get your lazy ass up!” _

He cursed and clicked on the internet connection, typing in the password quickly.“I’ll be right back.”He flipped open the phone to cut off another ring and kissed Mitch softly again before leaving the room.Mitch stared at him until the door closed and then looked back at the computer, his heart pounding in his ears.

The internet was on.Richard had never left him alone with the computer on, let alone with the internet logged in.All he had to do was write an email, less than two minutes and someone would know where he was, they would come to get him.Less than two minutes, more than enough time.He looked at the door again and closed his eyes.He wanted out of here, he really did and he didn’t want to die, which was a very likely possibility with Richard Carter involved, but Paul...

It should have made him want to cry, but instead he only felt a little deader inside than he had been before and that wasn’t anything new to him.With a heavy sigh, he gave up on rescue and typed in the website for iTunes.He didn’t want to risk Paul getting into trouble, because none of this was his fault, not really. 


	12. Chapter 12

Paul shut the door behind him and held the phone up, trying to disguise his annoyance.  “How are things going, Richard?”

 

“Great!  Well, it’s snowing, so maybe just good.”

“Snow?”

“It’s absolutely freezing and they’re insisting on shirtless photo-ops for the promo-material.”

“Sounds positively horrific.”

Richard chuckled, “You know, strangely, it’s not that bad.  We should come here on vacation next winter.”

There was none of the usual spread of comfort he always felt from hearing Richard’s voice.  “Maybe.”

“How’s the brat?”

“He’s fine, been behaving himself like an angel.”

“Like I knew he would.  Look, we’ve got a bit of a snag here.  It seems my co-star has decided he doesn’t want to go forward with the project and we’re in need of a supporting lead role.  What do you say, Paul?”

This was as familiar a scene as any other, only now there wasn’t the feeling of pride over Richard having called him for it, only the thought that he couldn’t leave Mitch.  “I...”  He couldn’t believe he was saying this.  “I can’t, Richard.  Who would watch after Mitch?”

“Don’t worry about Mitch, Paul.  Jessie’ll take care of it.”

His mind was flooded with images of the boy in the throws of passion, wanting it, genuinely asking for it and he couldn’t... he couldn’t go in there after that and tell him that he was leaving and that Jessie would be taking care of him.  Just the idea made him physically ill.

“I’m not leaving Jessie to watch over him, Richard.  It’ll be almost a month before we get back.  I can’t leave him with that man for a month.  I just can’t.”

There was nearly a minute’s pause before, “I didn’t say anything about Jessie watching him.  I said Jessie would take care of him.”

_It would have gotten out by now._

Oh, god, please no.  “Richard...”

“I said he’d take care of it, Paul.”

Paul closed his eyes and a voice echoed inside his head, clear as if he had said it out loud.  There was no way he was letting this happen and he’d lie to Richard if he had to in order to prevent it.  “Alright, Richard.  When do I leave?”

“That’s my Paul.”  He was going to be sick.  “Your plane leaves tomorrow at seven in the morning.”

The tightness in his chest had nothing to do with excitement, but the fact that he only had a few precious hours left with Mitch.  He had to get the kid packed and home in time for him to drive back, pack his own bags and get to the airport by five.  That was only - he looked at his watch - sixteen hours away and how long would he have before Jessie decided to come over?

“I’d better go then.”

Richard chuckled, “Give Mitchell-dear a kiss for me, love.  I’ll see you soon.”

“Right.”

Paul hung up the phone and stared at it, trying to collect his thoughts.  He wasn’t sure how he felt about Richard, or about his admission that he had no intentions of taking Mitch home, or even letting him live, but he did know that he couldn’t let that happen.  He stuffed the phone in his pocket and rapidly descended the steps.

The two car garage under Richard’s flat was used mostly for storage, with a small, careful carved niche for his corvette.  There was memorabilia from every movie, and boxes of things that Richard had outgrown or just simply didn’t use anymore, but what Paul wanted wasn’t going to be among these things, they were going to be in the very back, behind the moth eaten sofa that had at one time served as Richard’s bed.

It took him several minutes to traverse the treacherous floor and finally make it behind the sofa where the many bags that Richard no longer used cluttered the floor.  There were two trunks, but Paul didn’t think he could fit a trunk into his little sport’s car.  Eventually, he settled on two duffle bags and a backpack.  Unlike most of the boys, Mitch hadn’t collected a great many things and he was confident that he could fit them in these.

It took him longer to find Mitch’s clothes.  They’d been shoved on top of a book case and were covered in dust, but Paul shook them out and tucked them under his arm.  Upstairs, Mitch was loading music onto his iPod.  He looked at Paul when he came in, but his smile quickly dropped as he saw the dirty affects the man had brought with him.  “What are those for?”

Paul dropped them on the bed, mindless of the dust that instantly clung to Richard’s white sheets.  He couldn’t bring himself to answer Mitch’s question, because he still could only half believe he was doing it himself.  “Go take a shower.”

“But...”

“Mitch.”  The boy pouted and Paul went over to him, kissing him full on the mouth and tracing the inside of his lips with his tongue.  When he pulled away, Mitch was too flushed and flustered to argue when he ushered him into the bathroom.  “Take a shower.  I’ve got... it’s a surprise.”

Mitch nodded and shut the door behind him.  Paul immediately went to the stack of DVD’s next to Richard’s entertainment center.  He picked them up and dumped them unceremoniously into one of the duffle bags, coughing as it kicked dust into his face.  Crap, maybe he should have aired them out more.

It was surprisingly easy to tell what was Richard’s and what wasn’t.  By the time Mitch came out of the shower, Paul had filled one bag with DVD’s and games, another with clothes, and the backpack was crammed with books, the updated iPod, and a few other odds and ends that he had seen laying around the room, including Mitch’s clubbing gear.  He’d even managed to find the jeans that he’d brought over for Mitch, though now that he looked at them again, they were probably much too big.

Mitch stopped as he came into the room, his eyes fixed on the bags sitting on the bed.  Paul tossed him the jeans.  “Get dressed.”

“Why?”  There was a resignation in Mitch’s voice that forced Paul to stop his frantic last minute searching.  As much as he would have like to say different, Richard had treated the kid so badly, it wasn’t much of a surprise that he would think something bad was coming.

Standing in front of him, Paul pulled the towel off and knelt down, making Mitch step into too-big boxers and pulling them up.  With great restraint, he kissed Mitch’s forehead this time.  “I told you, I’ve got a surprise for you.”

He went back to looking under the bed and then in the closet.  When he was sure that he had everything, he looked back at Mitch and saw the kid still standing by the door, his arms wrapped stiffly around himself and his eyes averted to the floor.  “What’s wrong?”

Mitch looked up and his eyes were hard.  “You’re going to Richard and you’re taking me somewhere for someone else to babysit.”

Mitch dropped his gaze.  He’d overheard part of the conversation Paul had with Richard and he’d gotten the gist of it.  Richard wanted Paul to meet him wherever he was filming.  The hopeful part of him thought that maybe this meant he would be going home, however, the more logical side of him knew that wasn’t it at all.  The logical part of him knew that Richard couldn’t take him home, because even if he swore not to tell there was too much risk involved.  Most likely he was going to...

“I’m taking you home.”  He looked up again sharply, unable to breathe and Paul sat on the bed, nearly toppling the luggage off it.  The man raked his fingers through his hair and then met Mitch’s eyes.  “Richard wants me to meet him in England to do this film.  I can’t say for sure how long it’ll take, because I’m stepping in as the supporting lead roll and...” he shook his head. “Sorry, the point is, he wants me to do this and I will, but I won’t leave you with Jessie, I can’t do that.  So, I’m packing your things and I’m driving you home and then I’ll get on a plane and explain the whole thing to Richard when I get there.”

Mitch stared for several seconds before he finally managed to think and even then, the only thing he could say was, “Oh.”

Paul chuckled, but it had a deflated quality to it.  “So, can you get dressed for me?”

Nodding, Mitch grabbed the clothes off the floor and pulled the jeans on.  He must have lost a good amount of weight, because this was close to the size he’d worn before coming here and now they almost fell off him.  The t-shirt was too big as well - he felt like he was swimming in them.  Not that he was complaining, because for once they were real clothes and he was going home.

Paul lifted the backpack, putting it over shoulder and then picked up the two duffle bags.  “Okay, let’s get out of here.”

Mitch looked hesitantly at the door, but Paul nudged him forward, so he went to it, turning the knob slowly as if he expected something to jump out at him.  Paul smiled softly as he realized that was probably exactly what the kid expected.  It was still chilly out and Paul cursed as he realized that he’d forgotten to get Mitch shoes.

He looked around, then down at his car and cursed. “Stay right there.”

Making his way down the stairs, he opened the back door, throwing the bags in, then looked back up at Mitch, shivering in the doorway and opened his diver’s door, turning the car on and starting the heater before he went back up.  Up close, he couldn’t say whether the boy’s shaking was entirely from the cold, or whether nerves had a hand in it.  He shook his head and leaned down. “Hold on tight.”

Before Mitch could complain, he wrapped one arm around the boy’s back, the other under his knees and scooped him up effortlessly.  God, the kid couldn’t weigh much more than a hundred pounds.  He bit down on the guilt, pacifying it by reminding himself that he was taking the kid home, he was doing the right thing.  Maybe a little late in the game, but he was still doing it.

Once Mitch had been safely deposited in the passenger seat, Paul went to his side and got in.  He was more then a little concerned that Mitch hadn’t tried to run.  There was trust and then there was stupidity.  Sure, Paul hadn’t hurt Mitch and he’d said he was taking him home, but Mitch only had his word on that and it seemed strange that the kid wouldn’t at least try something.   The only problem was, he didn’t think Mitch was stupid and that scared him even more, because the only other possibility was that Mitch had lost the will to fight.

He’d have time to think about that later, right now he just had to get going, before someone came out of the main house looking for him and saw Mitch in his car.  Putting the car in gear, he turned to Mitch with what he hoped was a comforting smile.  “Buckle up.”

Paul started to back out while Mitch fumbled with the buckle.  He was doing the right thing.  He was.  So why was his stomach tied up in knots?

 

 

*****

 

 

Cynthia was sitting in the living room, watching television and biting her lips worriedly.  She’d had to come home to Temple City for Christmas, but, after three incidents of her breaking down into tears, her mother had promised that she’d be allowed to go back to Los Angeles afterwards.  It was just so frustrating to be here, when she should be hanging out with Paul and trying to pry information from him.

She looked at her cell phone on the coffee table.  He hadn’t called her since the last time they’d spoken, but she wasn’t really surprised.  Paul was the sort that preferred to be led and he was more likely to wait for her call than to call her.  God, she was just being so stupid.

Turning off the television, she put her head in her hands and took several deep breaths.  She should have gone to the police with what she had, she knew she should have, but it wasn’t as easy as all that.  When she took a step back and looked at the situation, she couldn’t honestly say she would have believed herself.  The famous Richard Carter went to a seedy gay dive to pick up some faceless kid when he has a life partner and, on top of that, said life partner, Paul Zalinsky is in on the whole thing, along with several other people if what Paul had said was true.

She leaned back into the cushions and tried to think it through again.  There were just so many possibilities and until she knew which ones were true, she didn’t feel comfortable going to the police.  What if Mitch had gone willingly?  What if he wanted to be there?  What if he’d gone and then decided to stay when he saw himself on the news because he didn’t want Richard to get in trouble?  But, then, what if Richard had taken Mitch against his will and was keeping him captive somewhere?  Or worse, what if Richard had killed Mitch?  Then, of course, it could all have been some kind of accident.  Maybe Mitch went home with him and he tripped and fell or maybe...

She kicked the coffee table in frustration and as if on queue, her phone rang.  Jumping, she picked it up and checked the number, half expecting it to be her mother checking up on her again.  She’d slept late and maybe her mom thought she was out with her friends.  Instead, she was surprised to see ‘Paul’ on the display.

Answering it quickly, she took a deep, steadying breath.  “Hello?”

“Hey, Cynthia, it’s Paul.”  His voice was low, almost a whisper.

She rolled her eyes, but smiled a little.  He really was a nice guy, all things considered.  “How are you?”

“I’m good.  You in Temple yet?”

“Of course, mom insisted, but I’ll be coming back in a week or so.  Why are you whispering?”

“I’m in the car with... someone and he fell asleep.”  There was a long pause.  “Look, I need a favor and I need you not to read too much into it, okay?”

She shrugged, then realized that he couldn’t see the gesture.  “Of course, what do you need?”

“I need you to tell me how to get to Mitch’s house from the Burger King.”  Her brain froze and her entire body locked up in shock.  She couldn’t form a coherent thought and when she didn’t immediately respond, he asked, “Are you still there?”

“Yes, yes, I am.  Um, why do you... I mean...”

“Look, please, just don’t ask questions.  I’m not sure I can answer them.  Just tell me how to get there.”

Her brain was working again and she stood up, running back to her room to get dressed while she talked.  “You go left, towards the grocery store and turn right at the second light, then another three streets down you take a left.  You’ll be on that road for about, maybe two minutes and you’ll come to a stop sign.  There’ll be a play ground to the right and a large school building to the left.  Go past that stop sign and take the first left.”

She flicked on the speaker phone and threw it on the bed, pulling her sweater on while she spoke.  “Go another two streets down and take a right, the sign should say Mayberry Street, Mitch’s house is the second to last on the left hand side.”

“Right, that’s right at the second light, left three streets down, first left after the school, right at the second street, that’s Mayberry and then second to the last on the left hand side.  Do you have any other street names?”

“No, I don’t have a license, so I don’t really pay much attention.”

There was a very long pause and she was afraid Paul had hung up.  She zipped her jeans and picked up the phone, turning off the speaker and holding it to her ear.  “Paul?”

“You don’t have a license?”

Oh, shit!  “Well, I mean, I don’t... drive, I guess, so...”

“Cynthia, how old are you?”

She cursed, but didn’t stop pulling on her boots.  “Um... eighteen?”

He laughed, but it was strained.  “Why don’t I believe you?”

She put her head on her knees, sighed and then sat up.  “Okay, fine, I’m fifteen - a little over a month younger than Mitch, actually.”

“That’s just perfect, I really am turning into a pedophile.”

“Paul, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell you, especially after we... you know.”

“God, you can’t even say it.  I’m only dating wrinkled old porn stars after this.”

She grabbed her keys from the hook by the door and leaned against the wall.  If she opened the door to go outside, he’d probably hear it and she didn’t want him to know she was leaving.  “I am sorry.”

“I know.”  He did sound like he knew, too, like the whole affair was inevitable in some way.  “I’m going to let you go so I can drive.”

“Okay.”

As soon as he’d hung up the phone, she left.  Mitch’s house was two streets down from hers and if she hurried, she could make it there before Paul. 

 

 

*****

 

 

“Mitch.”

Mitch groaned.  His neck was stiff and his back ached.  “No.”

“Come on, Mitch, wake up.”

He couldn’t do this right now.  He was too sore and tired to deal with Richard.  Couldn’t the man just leave him alone for one fucking day?  He pursed his lips together to muffle the sob that broke lose.  “Please?”

“...Mitch, it’s Paul.”

His eyes snapped open as the events of the day flooded back to him and he found himself staring at his house.  He sat up and looked around the car.  That’s right, he’d fallen asleep in Paul’s car while they were driving to his house.  Actually, he hadn’t really been sure that Paul was telling the truth about that, for all he knew it was just some ploy to get him in the car, but Mitch was beyond fighting things at this point.

“Hey.”

His head shot around to see Paul looking at him nervously.  “Hey.”

“We’re here.”

He glanced over at the house again.  “I know.”

Paul hesitated for a moment before taking Mitch’s face in one hand and kissing him on the mouth.  He kept it chaste, not using his tongue and when he pulled back, Mitch looked confused and uncertain.  Paul bit his lip and plunged forward with what he had to say, “I know that this doesn’t even begin to make up for everything, but I am sorry.  I’ll speak with Richard and get him to leave you alone.”

Mitch shook his head shortly.  “No, no, I’m not going to say anything to anyone, I just... I just wanted to go home.”

“I know.”  Paul put his forehead against Mitch’s, not missing the way Mitch relaxed against him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.  “Take care of yourself, okay?”

When Mitch had nodded, Paul reached past him and opened the door.  “I can’t really help you with the stuff.”  Mitch nodded again, stepping out of the car and hissing at the sharp sting of gravel on his feet.  He opened the back door quickly and pulled out the heavy bags, grunting with the effort of lifting the bulkier of the two duffels, which he was almost certain held the movies.

Standing next to the car, he looked around nervously, before smiling at Paul.  “Thank you.”

Paul didn’t say anything else, just smiled as Mitch shut the door and then drove off.  Numbly, Mitch turned around.  He was home.

 

 

*****

 

 

Cynthia wasn’t sure why, but she was angry.  She’d hid behind the bushes of the Dearing’s neighbor and watched the whole thing and she was pissed off.  Really, she wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but the tender display had been too much.  Through the car windows, she had seen Paul kiss Mitch and they’d sat together, cozy for well over a minute, before Mitch had gotten out and what the hell was in those duffel bags?!  He certainly hadn’t had anything on him when he’d disappeared.

Paul drove off and Mitch turned away from the street, still holding the bags bulging with she didn’t even know what and a large backpack on his shoulder.  He didn’t move, just stared at it, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing until Cynthia finally couldn’t take it anymore.  She stepped out, her feet crunching on fallen leaves.

Mitch’s head whipped around and when he saw her, his legs started to go cold and his vision tunneled.  This was real.  He was home and that was Cynthia standing only a few feet away, wearing the sweater she hated and new boots.  They were nice.  His opened his mouth, but only managed to get out, “Cyn...” before everything went black.  The last thing he saw was Cynthia rushing towards him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as I'm aware there is no Mayberry Street in Temple City. The directions are entirely fictitious and probably could leave you somewhere - maybe - but I have no idea where that would be.


	13. Chapter 13

“I told you, I don’t know.”

The police officer sitting across from her tapped his pen on the desk impatiently. “This is your friend.Don’t you want to help him?”

“Of course I want to help him!”She uncrossed her arms and looked the man in the eyes.“I don’t know what happened to him.I was going over to the Dearings to see how they were doing, because it was the holidays and I hadn’t seen them in over a month.”

He looked at the paper in front of him and she barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes.“According to the Dearings you didn’t stop in to say goodbye before you left and you didn’t try and contact them when you first got back.”

“My bad.”

“I find it hard to believe, Cynthia, that you just happened to come over in time to see Mitch faint in the front yard.”

“Yes, well, I find it hard to believe you passed graduated high school.”

“You what?”

She smiled her most innocent smile. “I said, could I have some water?”

He narrowed his eyes, his patience obviously wearing thin.“That is not what you said.”

With a casual shrug, she stood up, going to the little hot water cooler in the corner and poured some into a plastic cup before walking back, still smiling as she sat down.“I’m going to tell you this one more time and I want you to really listen.”

The officer stared at her, open mouthed, unable believe that a fifteen-year-old was taking the piss in his interrogation.Cynthia put down the cup and put her elbows on the table, leaning forward as she spoke.“I went to see the Dearings because I was feeling guilty that I hadn’t spoken to them since before I left.When I got there, a car parked in front of their house.It was a black four door, I don’t remember what make or model, and I wasn’t thinking to look at the plate.Mitch got out of the car and it drove off.He seemed to be... I dunno, in shock or something.When I called out to him, he passed out and I started yelling for Mrs. Dearing.”

“Did you see the driver.”

She did roll her eyes this time, sitting back in the chair. “I didn’t see anything!”

The room went silent and she sighed, crossing her arms back over her chest.Honestly, was the man retarded or something?Of course, she wasn’t telling the truth, but that was beside the point, because he couldn’t very well know that and until she talked to Mitch she wasn’t telling the police anything.Discreetly, she dropped her arms and slipped her hand into the pocket of her coat, thumbing the pink mini-iPod that had fallen out of Mitch’s pocket when he’d fainted.At the time, she’d meant to give it to the police, but now, she wasn’t really sure what she should do with it.She could hardly blame Mitch for having an affair with an older man and maybe Mitch wanted to protect that man.She certainly wanted to protect Paul, at least, unless it came to light that he had done something wrong.

The door to the interrogation room opened and all of her hostility waned as she saw Cheif Dearing standing in the doorway.“Parker, go get me some coffee.”

The young officer didn’t say anything, just nodded and got up, brushing past his superior.Cynthia’s resolve melted under his stern gaze and she pouted at the floor. Chief Dearing closed the door and sat down across from her and for the first time in the hour that she’d been in the station, she felt unsure of herself.

“Cynthia.”

“Hello, Chief.”She’d let go of the iPod the moment the door had opened, now she pulled her hand out and clasped her fingers together, fidgeting.The mere prospect of lying to Chief Dearing made her feel light headed.At home, he was nothing more than a big teddy bear, in his uniform, he was pretty damn intimidating.

“Cynthia, I want you to tell me the truth.”

With a frustrated whine she put her arms on the table and laid her head on it.“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I honestly don’t know the truth.I have my suspicions, but... they’re nothing more than that.”

A hand fell on her head softly and she looked up, feeling tears welling up in her eyes, real ones.God, it had been simply ages since she’d really cried, not since Mitch first disappeared.Chief Dearing smiled down at her, kind, but stern.“You went to Los Angeles to look for him?”

She nodded.

“You found someone who matched the description of the man we were looking for?”

“I found someone who knew the man that matched the description, but he said that he didn’t know anything.”

Chief Dearing leaned forward across the table, bringing himself eye level with her.“Did you believe him?”

After a moment, she shook her head.“Not really, but Mitch is only fifteen and he could have just been trying to protect his friend.I don’t know anything more than that. I really don’t and I... I don’t want to get someone in trouble when there probably isn’t anything to it.”She thought bitterly of the affectionate display between Paul and Mitch.If Mitch had done all of this because he’d wanted to, she wasn’t going to get Paul in trouble for it.

She sniffed back her tears and sat up, feeling a little more confident.“Is Mitch awake yet?”

Chief Dearing nodded, but didn’t seem inclined to move.“The hospital called to tell me he woke up twenty minutes ago.”

“Is he okay?”

“I’m not sure, yet.They think it was mostly shock that made him pass out.You know, Cynthia, you owe it to Mitch to tell me if you even suspect something.Even if it was consensual, he’s fifteen.That’s still statutory rape.”

She gulped down the knot in her throat and nodded.“I know, but... I just want to talk to him first, see what he has to say before I start ratting on people that might or might not have done something.”

He sighed, but stood up and held out his arm, putting it around her shoulder when she stood to join him.“Come on, he’ll probably be happy to see you and, besides, I can question you in the car.”She stuck her tongue out and was relieved when he smiled.“You realize you are going to be in a world of trouble when your mother finds out you lied about why you wanted to go to Los Angeles?”

“Yeah, I get that.”

*****

Mitch sat on the edge of the hospital bed, pulling at the hem of the overly large sweater his mother had brought for him.Nervously, he pulled his tongue ring between his teeth and listened to the comforting click of it against his teeth.It was all he could do not to hyperventilate.

“Are you okay?”

He jumped a little when his mom touched his hand and then relaxed, “I’m sorry.”

She smiled and stroked his hair, pulling him towards her so that he was leaning against her shoulder.“It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s here.”

The door opened and Mitch tensed and pulled away from his mother as the doctor walked in, holding his report and studying it.He flipped a page and his brows knitted together. “Mrs. Dearing, would you mind stepping outside with me for a moment?”

She reached down and put her hand on top of Mitch’s.“Anything you have to say, you can say in front of my son.”So far, his mother had been everything he could have possibly hoped for.She hadn’t questioned him and when he’d said that he didn’t want to talk about it, she hadn’t pushed him to.He knew that she had permitted them to run some tests on him while he was unconscious and while it bothered him a little, he figured that he’d rather not have been awake for them.However, he was glad that she wasn’t going to talk to the doctor’s without him there.He’d much rather know what she knew, than have to guess at it and guess wrong.

The doctor looked up and sighed, his gaze wavering between them for several moments before settling on her.“There’s no delicate way to say this, ma’am, but we found evidence of rape.”

“Rape?”Her hand over his stilled and the blood drained from Mitch’s face.Okay, maybe he didn’t want to be here for this.

“From the amount and extent of the scarring, I’d estimate that it’s been ongoing since he first disappeared.”

Mitch just managed to gulp down his vomit.

“There are also signs of malnourishment, drug use, mostly heavy sedatives, but some narcotics, as well as various other forms of abuse.”

For a moment, his mother didn’t say anything and when she did, her voice was choked up.“Can we step outside?”

Mitch couldn’t bring himself to look at her as she squeezed his hand and followed the doctor out.He closed his eyes and tried to breathe, pulling on the tongue ring in an attempt to get himself under control.He’d known that they would know. His father was always talking to his mother about cases that he was working on and how helpful the doctors were.He’d mentioned things they could get from hair and blood samples, not to mention the physical proof.It was all very fascinating.At least, it had been until it was used against him.

He pulled his knees up to his chest, propping his heels on the table and waited.Eventually, they would start asking who and he still wasn’t sure what he was going to tell them.Certainly not the truth, because while Richard may not have verbal threatened his family, the threat was always implied and Mitch had no doubt that if he spoke up it wouldn’t just be Mitch that would pay for it, but his family, his friends, anyone he had told.

Putting his head on his knees, he tried to breathe against the tight restriction in his chest.He’d wanted so badly to come home, but he was beginning to think it would have been better if he’d died in that room, because at least then he wouldn’t have to put up with the looks of disgust and pity on his parents’ faces or deal with the unexpected inability to let anyone touch him without flinching.

Mitch rubbed the tears that were running down his cheeks off onto his shirt.For the first time since Richard had initially taken him, he wished he could just die.

*****

Cynthia sat in the chair of the waiting area, stunned.Chief Dearing had sat her down and explained the situation to her after he’d talked to the doctor.Mitch wasn’t doing very well.So far, he’d said nothing, literally refusing to speak to the doctors.He flinched away when anyone tried to touch him.He kept going from very emotional, to blank without warning.He’d thrown up twice for no discernable reason.Other than that, there were physical signs that he had been sexually assaulted, drugged, abused, and a good number of other things that Cynthia didn’t even want to think about.

“Cynthia?”

She looked up at him, trying to get her thoughts in order.God, she’d been so upset when she first saw him, thinking that he’d just run away to be with someone and the fact that person might have been Paul had just made her even angrier.She didn’t even know why, but now... Mitch had been raped, drugged, abused... now she had even more questions than she’d had in the beginning, because she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Paul hadn’t done those things, but then who had?

_ Then there’s Richard’s boys... He picks them up at bars and takes them back to his place and they... live with him a few months before he sends them home. _

Oh, god, it was Richard.Richard had picked Mitch up at the bar, taken him home and kept him there, drugged him, raped him for months.Not only that, but he’d done it before, several times if Paul’s indications were anything to go by.

Chief Dearing looked concerned, but he pressed on.“Cynthia, I think maybe you have the answers you need and now I need some.Whatever you know, tell me.”

She pulled her eyes from the floor to look at him.“Not until I talk to Mitch.”She had to be certain, because she didn’t want to believe that Paul would let that happen.

For a moment, she thought Chief Dearing would fight her on it, but Mrs. Dearing put a hand on his shoulder.“It’s okay, dear, she’s just as shocked as we are.Take deep breaths, Cynthia, you’re looking a little green.”When Cynthia was sure she had her stomach under control, she took Mrs. Dearing’s offered hand and allowed herself to be led through the hospital halls.

They stopped outside of a closed door and Mrs. Dearing looked at her more sternly than Cynthia had ever known her to.“I know that you’re trying to do what you think is best, but we need to know who did this to him.Whoever it is, is a sick man and while he’s still out there Mitch is in danger, not to mention every other boy this man might come in contact with.Do you understand that?”

When Cynthia nodded, Mrs. Dearing opened the door, motioning for her to go in.Cynthia didn’t look up until the door had closed behind her and she knew that her and Mitch were alone in the room.Mitch was sitting on the examination table, his legs hanging off and his head down.He was so thin!His hair was longer, and he’d lost some of the color in his skin.She didn’t even need to see his eyes to know that they wouldn’t be as bright or full of life as they had been before.

“Mitch?”

He looked up, startled out of his thoughts.“Cynthia.”

She was relieved that he was speaking to her.At least he wasn’t so traumatized he’d lost his voice entirely.He probably just didn’t want to answer their questions.“How are you?Have they finished poking you with needles?”

A ghost of a smile graced his lips. “You know how much I hate needles.”

There was a funny click and a subtle slur to his words, but she ignored it, because it was a relief just to hear him again.“Your mom says that you aren’t talking.”

He gave a soft, hollow chuckled and hung his head. “I don’t know what to say to her.”

Before she could stop herself, she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him, holding him gently, but firmly and ignoring the way he tensed up, because he relaxed just as quickly.“I’m so glad you’re safe.”

Hesitantly, he put his arms around her and hugged her back.“I’m... I’m really glad to see you.”

She nodded into his shoulder, but couldn’t bring herself to let go.Besides, it was easier to talk when she wasn’t looking at him, especially considering what she needed to talk to him about.“Mitch, I need to know... I need you to tell me if Paul had anything to do with this.”

He body stiffened. “I don’t know who...”

“Don’t say that, Mitch.I know you know him, just tell me if he had anything to do with what Richard did to you.”

At the mention of Richard, Mitch yanked back suddenly and looked at her, his eyes wide with fright.“How do... what....”

“Paul’s got a big mouth when he’s drinking.He said some things that didn’t make a lot of sense until... well, until they told me about your condition.I know, okay, but if Paul did any of this...”

“Paul didn’t do anything.”Mitch said it very quickly and then rushed on, as if he couldn’t stop himself.“He was nice.He was the only one that was.He took care of me and he kept Richard off me when he could.He even brought me things.”

Brought him thing?“The duffel bags?”

He shook his head. “No, most of that was Richard.A lot of the time he liked to pretend I was there because I wanted to be and I think he kind of thought that if he bought me things I wouldn’t try and escape.I don’t know, really, he’s kind of... you know.”

After a moment, Cynthia nodded. “I get that.You really should tell someone, though.”

“No.”His voice was firm and loud this time, demanding.“I don’t care how many people know what or how, but they can’t find out who.”

“What?”

“You don’t understand, Cynthia.He’s fucking insane and the only reason I’m even alive is because I don’t intend to tell anyone.That you even know is...” he shook his head, “but at least it wasn’t me who told you and maybe he won’t find out if you don’t say anything.”

Cynthia tried to touch his hand, but he pulled away again.“Mitch, listen to me, your father is the chief of police, he can protect you.”

Mitch shook his head emphatically, “He can’t protect me from this.Please?”

“Mitch, he...”

Mitch stared at her, hard and she faltered.“Richard had this thing sometimes where he would wrap his hands around my neck when he was... you know and he wouldn’t choke me, he would just hold them there so that I knew he could if he wanted to and there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it.That’s who he is.It was all I could do just to survive there and I can’t face that again, I can’t even take the chance that he’ll get his hands on me again, because if it wasn’t for Paul I don’t think I would have gotten out.So, please, please don’t give him a reason to come after me, Cynthia.”

Cynthia wasn’t one to cry.In fact, she could count on one hand the number of times she had.When her dog died, when her parents told her they were getting divorced, when Mitch first disappeared, and when she’d been afraid the Dearings would hate her.That was it.But now, hearing Mitch talk about his captivity, begging her not to say anything, she couldn’t hold back the tears.Wiping her face, she finally nodded.She didn’t want Mitch hurt and if he really thought that this was better, maybe he was right.

“Okay, I won’t say anything.”

He nodded back to her and looked at his knees in favor of her eyes.“Thank you.You know, one of the times you called Paul, I was sitting next to the phone when it rang.”She gaped.“He, uh, picked it up and left the room to answer it, but... well, it was nice to hear your voice.It made those last few days easier.”

Cynthia opened her mouth, not sure what she was going to say, but a soft knock on the door cut her off and she turned around to see Mrs. Dearing opening the door.She was smiling, but there was a sadness behind it.Maybe it would be better if everyone knew and maybe Chief Dearing could protect Mitch, but... but maybe not and Cynthia wasn’t prepared to take that risk, especially not if it meant breaking a promise to Mitch.

Squeezing Mitch’s hand, she stepped away from him and forced herself to look Mrs. Dearing in the eyes and say, “I’m sorry, I was wrong,” before brushing past her and leaving.

*****

Home.

It was strange to be sitting in his own room, but comforting.His parents hadn’t said a word on the drive home from the hospital, but that had been comforting too, because the only thing anyone was interested in talking about was who had done this to him and why wasn’t he talking.In truth, he really wasn’t sure why, except that he didn’t want to answer questions and he wasn’t sure what he’d say otherwise.Honestly, ‘hi’ seemed a bit understated.

Mitch sat on his small bed in his small room and looked at his overly cluttered walls.They hadn’t changed anything, hadn’t even made his bed.Slowly, Mitch got up and pulled the sheets and blankets up, straightening them before sitting back down.Better.He eyed the Arctic Monkeys poster on the wall, overlapped by some postcards that Cynthia had sent him when she’d gone to Italy with her mother on a business trip, which were in turn overlapped by pictures of him and his friends, which overlapped several other posters of half naked men.

He stretched his feet out, touching his toes to the wall.It quelled the nausea some, but not enough.Standing up again, he pulled down the Abercrombie posters, mindless of whatever else came down with them.By the time he stopped some ten minutes later, he was surrounded by torn paper and panting, but the walls were bare and the sick feeling was receding.

Sitting back on the bed, he stared at the wall again.Better, much better.The duffle bags and backpack were at the police station.They were going through them to try and find some clue as to who’d had him.Reaching into his pocket, he took out the mini-iPod and ran his thumb over the unscratched display.He’d made Paul pull over and get it out of his bag during the drive because he’d been bored.

Cynthia had given it back to him, just before he was released from the hospital.Part of him wanted to throw it away, like all the other useless things Richard had given him, but another part... another part just couldn’t bring himself to do it.Just like he couldn’t bring himself to take the piercings out yet.Laying on the bed, he plugged the iPod into his ears and clicked it on, turning the volume up and closed his eyes.

It had been twenty four hours since Paul had sat on Richard’s large bed, telling him that he was taking him home.Twenty four hours, three of which were spent driving and the rest at the hospital.Wasn’t it incredibly ironic that after spending so long wondering if he would be able to live through Richard, this seemed so much harder?He could handle Richard and the others in that room, because he knew what to expect, he’d learned every unpleasant kink that they had and he’d learned how to manipulate them and live through them, but here... here he wasn’t really sure what to expect or how to please anyone.

With a sigh, he let himself slip into sleep.

*****

Paul looked at his watch.He’d dropped Mitch off exactly twenty three hours ago.It was two in the afternoon in California.Where was Mitch?Had they taken him to the hospital?If they had, was he home now?Had he talked to the police?He closed his eyes as the plane bumped the tarmac and the roaring of the brakes shook the plane.

If Mitch had talked to the police, there was no doubt in Paul’s mind that there would be an armed escort waiting at the gate when he got off.In fact, he almost hoped there was.What Richard had done, what they’d all done to that kid was wrong in the deepest sense of the word and as much as he didn’t want to go to jail for the rest of his life, he knew he deserved it.

“This is your captain.We’ve landed at Gatwick Airport in London.It’s eight ten in the evening, the temperature is...”

He tuned out the sounds of people shifting in their seats, anxious to move after thirteen hours of sitting.Looking out the window, he tried to spot police cars or any indication that someone was waiting for him, but there was nothing, just the blinking lights, directing the plane.

“Please remain seated until the plane comes to a full and complete stop.We hope you’ve enjoyed traveling Virgin Airlines and look forward to seeing you again.”

He nearly laughed, not really sure why he found that funny, but he did.Maybe it was because he’d spent the last thirteen hours imagining getting off the plane and being escorted right back onto it to be taken back to Los Angeles for questioning.Of course, they could always just question him here.It wasn’t like Paul had any intentions of trying to withhold information.Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean, he’d decided that if they did arrest him, he would tell them everything. Hell, he’d draw a fucking diagram if that was what they wanted.It was the least he could do.

The plane stopped and he stood up automatically, following the other first class passengers in getting up and pulling bags out from under the seats.He hadn’t stored anything in the overhead compartment.In fact, he hadn’t brought that much with him.Just a suitcase with some clothes and a rolling carry-on with his toiletries and two books.The entire time he’d packed, he’d been waiting for a knock on the door, for the police to burst it in, anything, but nothing had happened, just like nothing happened when he walked off the plane.

The lobby was empty the way airports shouldn’t be, only a few stranglers stood around, waiting for loved ones to de-board.No police, no flashing lights, no guns.He blinked a few times to get his orientation and when he finally looked around again, he saw Richard smiling and waving at him from the back of the crowd.

Gripping his carry more on firmly, he stepped away from the people exiting and went to Richard, his chest aching as the man instantly slipped his arms around him in the way that had become so natural for them.It was caring, friendly, loving even and the kiss that followed was even more so.Of course, the kiss caught Paul a little of guard, but he melted into it out of instinct and sighed happily at the sweep of tongue around his mouth.

Richard pulled back, but kept his arms slung low around Paul’s waist, looking at him with that cocky smile that said everything was going to be all right and it was, wasn’t it?The police hadn’t picked him up at home and they weren’t here waiting for him.Mitch hadn’t told anyone yet and probably never would, stupid kid that he was.

“How was the flight?”

Paul ignored the stares they were getting. “Horrid.I sat next to the smelliest man god ever had the audacity to create and no one should be forced to sit in those seats for that long.”

Richard chuckled and his arms slid away, his hand taking Paul’s and starting to lead him away, probably towards the luggage carousel.“On the way back we’ll take a private jet, just you and me and we’ll join the mile high club.”

It was nice to be with Richard again, it made all of his problems and doubts float away.Richard always took care of everything and especially now, with Mitch gone, it felt right again.“Is that a promise?”

Richard stopped for a moment and pecked him on the lips. “I always keep my promises, love.”

Love, that was such a nice word, a comforting word.It didn’t even matter that it probably hadn’t been meant as anything more than a silly endearment. The driver had already secured Paul’s bag by the time they got there and they followed him into the waited limo.Richard looked at the suitcase warily.“That’s all you brought?You’re allowed two, you know.”

Paul shrugged. “It really doesn’t matter, does it?I’ll be spending most of time in wardrobe and anyway, if I need anything, you can buy it for me.”

Richard raised an eyebrow and crawled in after Paul, sitting down next to him.“Maybe I won’t buy you anything.Maybe I’ll make you run around the flat naked all day.”

Paul’s cheeks heated up and his pants tighten, but a cough from the driver ruined the moment.Richard sat back and pulled on his seat belt.“Go ahead, we’re ready.”He turned to Paul. “They’ve got us a flat five minutes walk from the studio.It’s huge, actually, and it’s just for us.Two bedrooms, furnished with a television, cable, and a computer room complete with two computers and high speed internet.You’ll love it.”

They’d barely made it off airport property when Richard’s phone went off and Paul was instantly light headed as he heard the familiar voice gruffly calling, _“Shut up and pick up.”_

Richard cursed, “What the fuck?”He picked up the phone, “What?Say that again.You’re sure?He isn’t just hiding or something?You check under the... no, I’m not saying you’re stupid, but how else...”There was a long pause and Paul could feel Richard’s eyes sliding towards him.“I’ll call you back.”

The limo filled with silence and Paul closed his eyes.He didn’t think Richard would hurt him, but still...

“Driver, pull over.”

“Sir, I can’t, I’m on the motorway...”

“Then get off the fucking motorway and pull over!”

The driver mumbled something unintelligible and Paul tried to get his thoughts together, tried to decide what he was going to say.As soon as the car stopped at the back parking lot of a small restaurant, Richard grabbed Paul’s arm and dragged him out of the car, not bothering to wait until he had his feet under him.

“Where is he?”

“I...”Paul gulped and shoved his hands in his jeans, looking at the ground.Christ, he was a moron, what had he been thinking?Mitch’s face swam in front of his eyes and he nodded minutely.He’d done the right thing.He’d done exactly what Richard had done with every one of the other boys and just like with them, Mitch hadn’t told.“I took him home.”

“You what?!”Richard’s face contorted with rage far greater than Paul had ever seen.“Are you fucking stupid?!”He lunged forward and beat his fist against the top of the car next to Paul.“What were you thinking?!I told you Jessie would take care of it.All you had to do was leave him there and get on a god damned plane!”

“I know!”Paul sighed and looked at Richard. “I know what you wanted me to do, but I couldn’t.Richard, he’s fifteen, he deserved to go home, just like all the others...”

“The others did not go home, Paul!Don’t be an idiot, because I know you’re not. You live in this fucking fantasy world and maybe that’s my fault some, but it’s mostly yours.I can’t let them just go home, Paul, they would tell, or someone would investigate and find out.”

Paul’s blood froze and he opened his mouth to say something, but Richard put a hand over it and leaned in, keeping his voice low so the driver couldn’t hear.“‘Take them home’ means that I pack their bags, I put them in my car and I meet Jessie in a very remote part of the country where he will have dug a convenient grave four feet deep.I strangle them and I bury them with their things and no one ever finds them.”

An image played in the back of Paul’s head.Duncan, practically jumping up and down with joy at the idea getting to go home.He must have known pretty quickly that Richard wasn’t taking him to his dorm.Had he tried to fight?Somehow, Paul didn’t think so, but if he did, it would have been easy enough for Richard to overpower him.That was how all the fights with Duncan had gone.The boy would start struggling and Richard would just pin him and hold him in place until he gave up.He could almost hear Duncan’s voice, tight with barely contained excitement, _“You do mean it, right?You’re taking me home?Promise?”_

Suddenly, Paul’s stomach heaved and he pushed Richard away from him and ran to the curb, throwing up in the grass before dropped to his knees, panting.

They were dead, every single one of them and it was as much his fault as Richard’s, because he’d never bothered to care.Paul vaguely remembered Richard with a black eye and several other bruises when he’d come back from taking Greg home and he knew, without even knowing the boy that well, that Greg would have fought, like he had from day one.Richard had said that Greg had just been a little scared, but that he’d given him something for his nerves and everything had been smooth after that.

Andrew, Derick, Toby, William... and Mitch would have joined them in their unmarked graves if Paul hadn’t...

He sicked up again, until there wasn’t anything left and when he finally sat back on his heels, he knew that Richard was right next to him.“Since the police haven’t come to pick me up, yet, I’m going to assume that sweet little Mitchell-dear has kept his cock-sucking mouth shut.For your sake and mine, let’s hope it stays that way.”

That tone, he’d never heard that deadly calm from Richard before.There wasn’t any humor, any love, any caring at all.It was cold and hard.He nodded shakily and Richard helped him up, his grip too firm as he pushed Paul back in the car.Paul put his head down as Richard told the driver to hurry.

“Sit back and relax, Paul.We’ll do our thing and in a month we go home and I’ll take care of your little mess.”

God, what was he going to do?


	14. Chapter 14

_“Mitchell-dear.” He keeps his eyes closed against the voice that slips into his ears and invades his senses. Richard turns him onto his back and puts a leg over one of Mitch’s, running his hand up the inside of his thigh and bypassing Mitch’s groin in favor of sliding up his shirt._

_“I know you’re awake, Mitchell-dear.”_

_He whimpers and moves his hands to push Richard’s away, but it doesn’t deter him. He hadn’t really expected it to. Richard pushes his shirt up, ignoring his protests as he dips his tongue into Mitch’s belly button and pulls his pants off. Mitch knows that Richard is already naked by the feel the man’s legs against his._

_When Richard touches the undersides of his knees, Mitch automatically lifts his legs, gritting his teeth against anything his traitorous throat might give away. Richard props Mitch’s legs on his broad shoulder and slides his already slick cock into him. It doesn’t hurt like it should, like it used it. Not that it doesn’t hurt at all, but Mitch can’t decide which he prefers, the perverse pleasure he body gets from this, or the fiery pain._

_Richard moves slowly inside him and Mitch doesn’t have to open his eyes to know that Richard is drinking in his facial expressions, enjoying every flinch and gasp and twitch. “Uhn.” He bites his lip to hold back the noise, because if he lets go, he knows he’ll start pleading and he hates that Richard gets off on that more than the fucking._

_A hand moves from his hip up his body and he knows what’s coming before Richard does it. The fingers wrap around the base of his throat, not tightening, put pressing in softly. Mitch opens his mouth to take a deep breath. Richard’s never tightened the grip, he’s never actually choked Mitch, but sometimes his fingers shift like they want to._

_Richard leans closer, still fucking him almost lazily. “Beg me, Mitchell-dear. Beg me for it.”_

_“Please.” Mitch can’t stop himself from speaking now, the words pour out of his mouth. “Please stop, please!”_

_“Not like that, love. You know better.”_

_“P... please f... fuck me.” It hurts to say it, but if he doesn’t, Richard can make this go on for what feels like forever and he knows it._

_The only response he gets is a deep throated chuckle and Richard sits up, fucking him harder, faster, his fingers shifting in that threatening way and Mitch knows he’s crying, wishes he could stop it, but he can’t. “Please, please, please...” He’s ignored like he knows he will be, but it doesn’t stop him from continuing the litany, because now that he’s started, he can’t stop and he’s shaking... no, someone’s shaking him..._

Instinctively, he lashed out, opening his eyes as his fist hit something solid and scooting back against his wall in disorienting terror. He’d hit Richard, oh god, he hadn’t mean to, but he had, he’d hit... Frank? Slowly, everything started to come back to him and the roaring in his ears died down, leaving him to the harsh panting of his brother, who was doubled over with a hand on his stomach.

“Merry Christmas to you, too.”

His memory was always a little slow to come back first thing in the morning and he flushed bright pink. He’d been home for a week, but it still didn’t feel real, he still expected to wake up back in Richard’s room. The only good thing was that he’d stopped talking in his sleep. The first time his mom had woken him up, she’d been horrified and it had taken him several hours to learn that she’d come into him tossing and turning on the bed, begging someone to stop.

“Merry Christmas.” It really was like a dream, being home for Christmas. He hadn’t thought he would be, but he’d hoped, and then Paul had said definitely not and he’d given up on that, only to be sent home. It was unreal at best, but he’d take what he could get, even if it was a dream.

Frank had come back from school the moment he’d heard Mitch was home, taking only three hours for a four hour drive. It was a miracle he hadn’t been pulled over. His brother sat on the bed next to him and Mitch unconsciously shifted so that they weren’t touching. One of the many side effects of his captivity was that Mitch didn’t like being touched. He’d thought that would fade with a few days, but it had only gotten stronger. The other day his father had given him a hug and he’d nearly had a panic attack.

Still, he couldn’t avoid it altogether. Frank patted his shoulder. “How are you doing today?”

It was the same question as every morning and it earned the same answer. “Okay.”

“Well, then, we’d better get you out of bed.” He lowered his voice and leaned in conspiratorially. “Mom’s fixed the biggest breakfast I have ever seen. There’s three different kinds of jelly, two breads, plus biscuits, grits, scrambled eggs, pancakes, bacon, sausage, and a tray of fruit. That and I think she’s hiding something, I smelled pie this morning, but I didn’t see any on the table. ”

Mitch couldn’t help laughing. “She’s gone insane.”

Breakfast at his home was generally two slices of toast, buttered if they weren’t in a hurry, and a glass of soda. Other than his mother, no one ever got out of bed in time to sit down for a meal and with his father on the force, there never were any real holidays. This was the first Christmas that the entire family had been home and didn’t have anywhere else to be. Actually, his dad had wanted to go in, they were still reviewing the evidence in Mitch’s case and he’d wanted to help, but his co-workers had threatened to lock him out of the building.

With a grin, Mitch pushed the covers back and slid off the bed. Frank got up as well and ruffled his brother’s hair before stepping out to let Mitch get changed. Before, Mitch had always slept in only his underpants, not bothering with pajamas or even a t-shirt. Now, he went to bed fully dressed, covering every part of him that he could. His mom had actually gone and bought him three sets of full pajamas so that he didn’t have to sleep in his jeans, but he couldn’t bring himself to wear them. Not yet, anyway.

The moment he stepped out, he knew Frank was telling the truth about breakfast. The entire house smelled of food and he could hear voices coming from the kitchen. He froze as he took in the scene at his kitchen table. It wasn’t just his mom and dad and Frank, but Cynthia was there with her mom, and Ron too, talking animatedly about the weather and how wonderful all the food looked.

Cynthia was the first to notice him. Her smile faltered, but she immediately put it back on. “Morning, Mitch!”

He smiled back at her and stepped forward into the room. His stomach twisted as he sat down, everyone staring at him. For a moment, it felt like he was back with Richard, at one of his parties when everyone suddenly decided they wanted entertainment and all eyes were on him, because he _was_ the entertainment. He was going to be sick. Oh, please don’t let him be sick.

He looked down, pulling his tongue ring between his teeth nervously. Please make them stop staring. Please, please, please...

“Mrs. Dearing, this smells wonderful. Could you pass me the hash-browns?” Cynthia. Wonderful Cynthia. Mitch looked up, smiling at her in thanks. She winked, but Frank wasn’t paying attention.

“There are hash-browns?!”

He laughed silently, just one convulsive shake of his chest.

His mother frowned at Frank reprovingly. “Don’t be silly, Frank.”

“I’m silly?! You’re the one whose gone crazy.” He dodged a glancing blow from his father to the back of his head. “Can I have a Coke?”

His mother passed him a container of orange juice. “You could have had a Coke, until you decided to mouth off. Now drink your juice and stop complaining.” It was said scornfully, but there was a humor behind it that made Mitch smile and relax.

After breakfast they moved to the living room, where everyone sat around, talking about what they were going to do that evening. Cynthia, however, watched Mitch. He sat a careful distance from everyone and his mouth kept moving, as if he was chewing on something. She’d spent the whole week trying to figure out what she should do - if she should go against Mitch and tell everything, or keep her promise and stay silent. More than once she’d been driven nearly to tears, but until she was certain she was doing the right thing, she wasn’t going to do anything.

“Mitch, you want to come outside with me?”

He looked up at her, his face startled, but nodded and Mitch got up. Mrs. Dearing got up as well, but then slowly sat back down. “Be careful and don’t forget your coat.”

Mitch nodded, but didn’t say anything as he took his coat off the hook next to the door and pulled it on over his shirt. Cynthia closed the door behind them and leaned against it, looking at her friend. He had lost a good deal of weight when he’d been gone and according to her mother, who was keeping in close contact with the Dearings, he still hadn’t been able to put any on. Even at breakfast, she’d watched him only pick at his food, eating little and saying nothing.

“Let’s go for a walk around the block.” He didn’t argue, just followed her, his eyes down, but his head up, which was an improvement, however small. She didn’t speak again until they’d gotten to the street and she was sure that no one could hear her. “So, what’s in your mouth?”

He looked over at her and she shrugged. “You’ve been messing with something for the past hour. Not that I blame you, I’m sure it beats listening to the drivel that passes as conversation between adults.”

For a moment, she was afraid she’d said something wrong, because Mitch stopped walking, but when she looked up he was smiling. “Thanks.”

She nodded and they started walking again. After a few feet, he turned to her and stuck out his tongue and she gasped. A tongue ring?! No one had said anything about a tongue ring! “Oh, my god!”

Mitch nodded, pulling it back in and continuing to walk. For a moment, Cynthia couldn’t think, then she regained herself and caught up with him. “When did you get a tongue ring?”

“Richard.” She stiffened, but at least she remembered to keep walking this time. “I was gonna take it out, but...” he pulled on it and she flinched at the harsh sound of metal on teeth. “I got used it after a while. It’s something to do. Like fidgeting, only people don’t notice it as much.”

They walked in silence for a little while and Cynthia was just beginning to think she should say something when Mitch perked up. “How’s Mark?”

“Oh, he, uh... he’s fine.” She kicked a frozen rock into the snow. “He’s been calling me all week, can’t wait to see you.” After a second, she found herself chuckling. “When you went missing, he was more of a wreck than I was. He kept bursting into tears in class.”

Mitch laughed, “He’s such a drama queen.”

“Right? Eventually they sent him home, but I really wasn’t interested in keeping tabs on him. I, um, haven’t really been to school in a... hm, a while, now, but I talked to Sandra and she said he puts on a good face, but whenever he thinks no one is paying attention he looks really sad.”

Mitch nodded, but he was still smiling. “You haven’t been to school?”

She nodded, “Yeah, I went to Los Angeles to look for you, but you know that.”

He shrugged, “You could tell me more.”

Slowly, she nodded, “Okay.” And she told him everything, in detail. She told him about Chris, the bartender, and waking up in his apartment and how he’d been really sweet to her and watched out for her when she was at Humps. She explained how he’d taken her to Fizzy’s and how she’d met Paul there and ended up in bed with him.

“So, you really did sleep with him?”

“Not one of my prouder moments, I’ll admit, but you know, he called me and I was already kind of drunk and one thing led to another and eventually it all led back to my room at my dad’s flat.”

“The room with the white furniture and the little flowers?”

She cringed, “Right? I swear I’m making my dad paint over that the next chance I get.” As she told the rest of the story, they continued to walk, never straying from sight of Mitch’s house, and Mitch listened to her, intent on hearing everything she had to say. By the time she finished, they’d walked twice around and her cheeks were flushed, but Mitch was still smiling. It was a little secretive, perhaps, and she got the feeling that maybe she didn’t understand exactly why he was smiling, but seeing it made her feel warm.

Without thinking, she lunged to the side and wrapped her arms around him and she was surprised when he returned the favor, hugging her back. “I’m so glad you’re here. I was so afraid I’d never see you again.”

Mitch choked up, but more than that, he was confused. The past week his parents had kept him locked in the house, insisting that he needed rest. He hadn’t seen Cynthia, even though he’d asked if he could. Seeing her now had been a relief, like he could let his guard down. He’d thought that would mean crying or being angry, but in reality it meant he could smile and when she’d hugged him, he hadn’t flinched. In fact, it had felt good and comforting and he had never been so glad to have someone near him in his life.

He thought perhaps it was something about Cynthia. She was his best friend, she knew all his dark secrets, including this one and that meant that while everyone else was sitting, watching him for any clues as to what he was thinking, or what he had been through, Cynthia didn’t have to ask, because she just knew.

They stood like that for a while and when they finally parted, it was because the wind had picked up again and they were both shivering. Cynthia dusted a fallen leaf off her jacket. “Let’s get inside before they start looking for us.”

 

 

*****

 

 

Mitch had always hated psychiatrists. They were like slimy worms that tried to get into people’s heads and rummage around until they found what they wanted. His boyfriend, Mark, had been going to a psychiatrist, because his parents thought he was depressed, turned out he was just a drama queen, but it took them a year and several thousand dollars for the psychiatrist to make that diagnosis.

So, overall, Mitch felt it was a testament to how much he loved his parents and how thankful he was to be home that he was sitting in an oversized, navy blue chair in the office of Dr. Chang, listening to the psychobabble for the third time. “Tell me about Mitchell-dear.”

Mitch fought off a scowl and concentrated on tracing the pattern on the chair. “That’s my name.”

“No, your name is Mitchell Dearing.”

He did scowl this time. “That’s my _pet_ name.”

Dr. Chang put his hands in his lap, templing his fingers thoughtfully. “From whom?”

Looking at the man, Mitch stared for several moments before he finally sighed and gave in. As long as he didn’t give any names, it couldn’t hurt anything, right? “ _Him_.”

“The man who held you captive?”

He found himself flinching involuntarily at the word ‘captive,’ but nodded. “He never called me anything else.”

“Why do you suppose he had that put on the piercing?”

“Because it was a little less obvious that ‘Property Of’, because if he’d put his name it would have been incriminating, because he’s a sick fuck? You’re the psychiatrist, you figure it out.”

He’d changed his mind, talking was a stupid idea. He was going to give something away if he didn’t watch himself. Looking at the clock behind him, he sighed. Another twenty minutes of this shit. Not that that really meant anything. Dr. Chang always scheduled Mitch as his last patient of the day, just in case he needed more time. Stupid fucking psychiatrist.

“Let’s talk about television.” What? “Your parents tell me you have an adverse reaction to watching television. They say you’d rather sit in your room and stare at the walls than join the family in watching the evening news. Why is that?”

Damn it, he hadn’t realized it had been so obvious. “It’s all I had to do there. I just sat on the bed and watched television for hours on end until I couldn’t even remember what I was watching anymore.”

“Did you watch the news?”

He started to shake his head, then stopped. “I wasn’t supposed to. He didn’t like it when I cried and I usually did after watching the news, so he threatened to block all the channels if he caught me at it again. Sometimes I’d do it anyway, P...” careful, “one of his friends didn’t mind so much if I cried, so if I knew he was coming to keep an eye on me, I’d watch a little, but... well, there wasn’t really any point after a while.”

Dr. Chang nodded and Mitch found himself scowling again. “So, there was more than one.”

Fuck. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Sit down, Mitch.”

Without thinking, Mitch obeyed. Oh, god, he’d said something stupid, he’d known this was a bad idea. “Tell me about his friend.”

“I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“I can’t make you.”

The room got quiet and Mitch put his head down on his knees. “His friend was... nice. I liked him. He talked to me and he was kind and he didn’t hurt me like the others.”

“More than two, then.”

Mitch closed his eyes against the fabric of his jeans and gave up just a little. He needed to talk so badly. He’d considered telling this to Cynthia, but she’d been so emotional lately, that he was afraid he’d upset her. Maybe it was the aftershocks of all they’d been through, because they’d both been a little loopy in the emotional department.

“Yeah, five of his friends. They’d come over and he’d give them stuff, drugs, then they’d force me to take them too and they’d take turns fucking me until they got tired of it. He called them parties.” He could feel the tears pricking his eyes and he clenched his hand in his hair, pulling it to ground himself so he wouldn’t cry. “His friend, the one I was talking about, he didn’t like that. He went along with it for a while, but then he stopped. He didn’t like it.”

Dr. Chang tapped the end of his pencil on his notepad. “Sounds like a decent fellow.”

Mitch looked up sharply. “Don’t be sarcastic, he is. He does what R... what _he_ tells him to. He just doesn’t know any different and stop making that noise!”

The pencil stopped, but Mitch had already gotten up from his seat. “I have to go.”

He ignored the doctor’s protests and walked out of the office, brushing past his mother and father as they stood up. He needed air, he needed to get outside and clear his head. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his father start after him, but his mom held him back. Silently, he thanked her, because he wasn’t sure what he would say just now. He was so... so angry and it wasn’t at them. It was at Richard for being a sick fucking bastard; it was at Paul for not doing anything sooner, for making him go through months of that before he finally decided to drop him off at home with a kiss and a ‘be well’; it was at himself for being too terrified to tell anyone who had done this to him, because he knew, he _knew_ that his father could protect him, but the thought that he’d have to see Richard again, even if it was in a courtroom or a line up made him physically ill. So, he didn’t say anything and he tried to move past it, but it wasn’t helping.

A woman was standing outside, wearing a black, business suit and high heals. She had just pulled out a cigarette and was fumbling with her lighter. Mitch bit his lip nervously and shifted his feet. Fuck it. “Mind if I have one?”

She looked at him for a moment, before giving a half laugh. “Right, like I’m giving smokes to a fourteen-year-old..”

“Fifteen.” Mitch leaned against the building dejectedly. “Would it make any difference if I said I was Mitchell Dearing?”

She stopped and gawked at him, surprised. “That kid from the news? The one who went missing?” He nodded, but continued to stare at the ground. A moment later a lit cigarette was shoved under his nose and he looked up, startled. “Go on, kid, I’m sure you’ve earned it.”

“Thanks.” He took it and pulled the smoke into his mouth happily. It wasn’t Paul’s brand, but as he puffed on it, he could feel his muscles unwinding. “So, are you a patient here?”

With a casual shake of her head, she finished lighting her own cigarette and put her box away. “Dr. Reeves, actually.”

He frowned and took another deep breath of tobacco and nicotine. There were too many doctors in this damned place. Of course, this one had given him a cigarette and he could hardly find fault with that.

She smiled at him, but it wasn’t the pitying, placating smiles he had gotten used to over the past two weeks, it was genuine. “What about you? Who are you here to see?” He hesitated and her eyes brightened. “No, let me guess. Dr. Chang?” At his surprise, her smile became amused. “He works closely with the police around here and I just remembered who your father is. He’d only want to best for his son.”

Guilt stabbed at Mitch’s stomach. “I know, but I don’t like doctors and I just... I don’t know what I can tell him. I’m sure he tells my parents everything I say.”

Dr. Reeves sat down on one of the benches and patted the seat next to her. “Actually, Mitch, he can’t.”

“What?” Slowly he sat down, careful to keep a good two feet between them.

“Doctor patient confidentiality.”

“But... you said he works for the police, why would he do that if he wasn’t telling them things?”

“He tells them things, but not like that.” She handed him a fresh cigarette and he thanked her again. “This isn’t an interrogation. Especially in your case, if he doesn’t have anything concrete, he’s not going to break your trust.”

“Really?”

“Really. If he suspected child abuse, he’d have to tell, but they already know about that. From what I’ve heard through the grapevine, the doctors have all the evidence they need, even without your testimony. The details you tell him in there, that’s between you and him. The only thing he’s obligated to take to the police at this point is if you give him a name.”

It was tempting, to be able to talk to someone, to tell them everything and just get it off his chest and not have to hold it inside. Hell, it was more than just tempting, it was like holding food in front of someone who was starving and asking if they wanted it. Besides all that, he didn’t have to give a last name, did he? Just Richard and there were plenty of people named Richard out there.

Throwing his cigarette down, he stepped on it and stood up, thrusting his hands in his pockets as he turned to her. “Thanks.”

She smiled, but didn’t say anything else as he walked off, back into the building and up the stairs to the first floor, where his parents were standing in the lobby, talking to Dr. Chang with concern on their faces.

“I’ll talk to you.” They looked over, surprised, not having noticed him enter and he gulped, feeling his bravado quickly dying down into meek need. “You can’t tell anyone what I say, right? It’s between me and you?”

Slowly, Dr. Chang nodded and Mitch tried to ignore the relief that he saw in his parents faces as he stepped past them to stand next to the doctor. “Then, okay.”

Dr. Chang nodded and motioned for Mitch to follow him, before turning to his parents. “Why don’t you head on home, Henry, I’ll make sure he gets back safely.”

Mitch’s father nodded and put his arm around his wife’s shoulders, turning her towards the exit. Mitch watch the door close behind him, leaving him the office with Dr. Chang and instead of the heavy, trapped feeling he usually got in such situations, he was surprised to find that he felt remarkably relaxed.

 

 

*****

 

 

No one was more surprised by how quickly Mitch recovered than himself. He’d expected that talking would make a difference, but he hadn’t expected it to be like this. Another week had flown by, he’d had two more sessions with Dr. Chang and after each one he felt more and more like himself. Oh, he still didn’t like being touched, but he no longer shuddered violently when someone hugged him. He still didn’t like to watch television, but doing so no longer gave him flashbacks of sitting on Richard’s bed, waiting for the ‘fun’ to begin. He still didn’t like crowds, but there were no panic attacks at the mere thought of going to the grocery store with his mom.

In fact, he was ready to take the next step. At least, he thought he was.

“Mitch, are you okay?”

He turned to Cynthia, who was standing next to him, her heavy backpack weighing on her shoulder as she stood on the steps to the school, waiting for him to follow her. Oh shit, he hadn’t even realized he’d stopped. The school looked large and imposing, but that in itself wasn’t the problem. The problem was the multitude of faces that he could see peering down at him from the various classrooms.

He could do this, he could do this.

Relief washed over him as Cynthia took his arm and lowered her voice so that the few people still trickling past them wouldn’t hear. “If you’re not ready, it’s okay. I’ll walk you back home.”

It was tempting, but not as much as he’d thought it would be. Truth was that he was tired of sitting in his room with nothing to do but listen to music and read. He had to get out and the only place his parents were going to let him go on his own was school. Besides, he was already so behind on his work that he’d have to go with Cynthia to tutoring sessions for the rest of the year and probably even summer school. If he waited any longer, they’d hold him back.

“No, I’m all right.” She didn’t let go, just turned around and started walking again, dragging him with her.

He could do this. He could do this. He could...

“Mitch!” He hadn’t even had time to recognize the voice before the whirlwind of arms hit him from behind, wrapping around him in a tight embrace. Someone was behind his. Someone was holding him. A man’s crotch was digging into his backside. Instinctively, he thrust his elbow back and stepped down on the foot of the person behind him, diving forward in an attempt to get away.

The arms instantly let go and he careened towards the ground, caught by Cynthia, who blessedly stopped him from falling face first onto the brick walkway. He stood panting, gripping her arms, while she admonished his attacker.

“What the fuck, Mark?”

Mitch twisted half around and, sure enough, there was Mark, looking hurt and confused by Mitch’s attack and Cynthia’s criticism. “I wasn’t doing anything, just saying hi.”

“It’s okay, Cyn.” Mitch forced himself to stand straight and face his boyfriend. There was nothing intimidating about Mark, really. He was about as tall as Mitch, with short, closely cropped brown hair and wide, trusting eyes. He was, perhaps, slightly broader than Mitch, but that had never been intimidating before. But, then, that was before. All of the progress he’d made seemed to fall apart in the face of the one person he had avoided seeing since his return three weeks ago. “Um, hi, Mark.”

As far as Mitch’s parents were concerned, the fewer people who knew the details, the better and as far as Mitch was concerned, well... he just hadn’t really thought about it at all. It wasn’t fair to Mark, maybe, but that was the way it was.

Mitch picked his backpack up off the ground and looked bashfully around at the people who had stopped to watch the display. So much for pretending nothing was wrong. “Sorry about that, you, uh, caught me off guard.”

“Figured that.” Mark rubbed his abdomen and Mitch cringed. “You’ve been avoiding my calls.”

“I’m sorry about that, too.”

An awkward silence stretched between them and finally Mark couldn’t take it. “Can I walk you to class?”

Cynthia looked at Mitch questioningly, but he nodded. She really didn’t need to worry. Mark was the kind of over-sensitive person who, quite literally, could not hurt a fly. He had accidentally sat on a beetle once and nearly broke down into tears over it. Still, Mark didn’t know what had happened and he might say something or do something unintentionally.

As they started into the school, Mitch thought about the billions of things he needed to say to Mark, some he even wanted to say, but the one that came out hadn’t even really been on his list. “I saw you on television with Cynthia. You know, the first day. She started crying and you helped her. Thanks for taking care of her for me.”

Mark chuckled, “At least someone recognizes my good intentions. Cyn practically bit my head off not two minutes later, said she didn’t need my help.”

Cynthia playfully punched Mark on the arm. “Fuck off, _Marcus_.”

With a push of his own, Mark stuck out his tongue, “ _Cynthia_.”

“Marcus.”

“Cynthia.”

Mitch laughed and they both turned to him.

It was like old times, Cynthia and Mark had always fought like bother and sister, which was good, because they also got along just as well. A hand slipped into his, Marks, and Mitch tensed. He could do this. He could do this.

_He was on the floor of Richard’s room, tears running down his cheeks. Richard was holding his hand, trying to pull him to his feet to continue dragging him to the bathroom. “Please, Richard, please?” He couldn’t do it, not again, not so soon. He was still so sore from the night before._

_“Get up, Mitchell-dear.”_

_Mitch shook his head desperately. “No, no, no...”_

_Richard leaned down, still not letting go of his hand and dropped his voice to a deadly rumble. “Either get up and follow me into the bathroom or I will fuck you dry over the bed.”_

_Mitch stopped breathing. As much as he couldn’t bring himself to stand up and follow Richard into the bathroom to let himself be fucked, he couldn’t give Richard a reason to do that, either. He moaned pitiably, but forced himself to his feet and let Richard drag him along by his hand._

Mark squeezed his hand and smiled at him.

_Richard was leaning over him, sucking on the junction of his neck and shoulder. He was fully dressed, but Mitch was naked and he was trembling under the covers. He lifted his hands, clenching his fingers around Richard’s broad shoulders. He had no intentions of pushing him away, but Richard wasn’t in the mood to put up with even the most passive of resistance._

_He moved the hand that was holding Mitch’s head to the side and used it to pull Mitch’s hand above his head slipping his fingers into Mitch’s, squeezing them. It wasn’t a slap in the face, it wasn’t a verbal threat, it wasn’t even a glare, nothing about Richard’s movements even hinted that it had been a warning, but Mitch knew it was._

Suddenly, Mitch pulled his hand away from Mark and stared down at it, pale and shaky. Cynthia had seen it coming, but it had happened so quickly that she hadn’t been able to do anything about it. One moment they were walking into the school, Mitch’s head held high, even if his eyes were slightly downcast. Then Mark had surreptitiously slipped a hand into Mitch’s and she’d watched her friends face go from pale to paler and then slightly green before he’d pulled away, shaking.

Not good. She moved between them quickly, ignoring Mark’s indignant cry. “Mitch?”

Mitch jerked away from her, stepping back a little before looking up, locking eyes on Mark and shaking his head. “I can’t do this, I’m sorry.” He looked at Cynthia, “I’m really, really sorry.” Before turning around and darting off away from the school.

Cynthia cursed heavily. At least she’d worn sneakers. She’d just turned to bolt when Mark grabbed her arm. Stopping, she turned on him sharply. It was understandable that he was upset, but she didn’t need to be held up. Mitch was a damn fast runner and she needed to catch up to him.

“Not right now, Mark.”

He narrowed his eyes and she sensed a tantrum. “If not now, when? I’m tired of being kept in the dark.”

“Mark...”

“No! He’s my boyfriend...”

“And he’s my best friend! If you wanted to help him so badly, you should have ditched school and come with me Los Angeles! I’m not giving you answers you don’t need to questions you don’t even know to ask!”

“That’s not fair. You didn’t tell me what you were doing, or I would have...”

“You would have stopped me, you lily prancing ass. You would have told on me and I would have been stuck here with you and Mitch might still be there in that... that _hell_. Now let me go!”

He did let her go, but she thought it might have been more from shock than an answer to her demand. Quickly, she ran after Mitch. He was well out of sight by now, but she knew where he was going. Rounding the corner, she saw him crouched on the sidewalk, his head on his knees. She came to a halt and her heavily laden bag pressed against her back, tipping her forward so that she lost her balance and tripped over her own feet, falling onto her knees with bone grinding force.

“Shit!” That hurt.

Mitch looked up, his eyes red and puffy. “Cyn?”

She did her best to smile through her grimace as she sat up and brushed off her scraped shins. “You okay?”

He shook his head and she sat next to him, concentrating on the cold ground pressed against her ass instead of the burning pain of her knees. She didn’t say anything, just sat there and after a moment, Mitch sat back as well and put his head on her shoulder. “I’m sorry I ran. For a moment... for a moment I was back there with Richard and I couldn’t... I just couldn’t.”

Cynthia nodded and put her head down on top of his. “It’s okay, Mitch. I’ll talk to Mark.”

“No. I should. I just don’t think I’m ready to yet.”

In the distance, the school bell tolled and Cynthia sighed. “You know what, Mitch?”

“Huh?”

“I don’t think I’m quite ready to go back to school, either.”

“Hm.”

“You know what else?”

“What?”

She wondered if she should say what she was thinking. It might burden him, make him feel guilty, but if there was anyone she could tell this too, it would be Mitch. “I, um... I think I’m pregnant.”

He pulled away so fast she nearly fell to the side and she gave him a rueful smile. “Are you serious?”

Cynthia nodded, “Yeah. I’m two weeks over due and... well, you’ve seen me lately. I’m an emotional train wreck.”

Mitch couldn’t think of anything to say. If Cynthia was pregnant, then it was Paul’s, because she sure as hell hadn’t slept with anyone else. He looked down at the ground for a minute and finally looked back up at her. “You should tell him.”

She nodded, “I will.” Then she stood up.  “Come on, my ass is wet and there’s some daytime drama that’s just begging to be watched. We’ll have your mom make us pancakes.”

He laughed, but took her arm thankfully and let her pull him up, looking inconspicuously at her stomach. It might not be such a bad thing.


	15. Chapter 15

_“So, this makes us friends, right?”_

Cynthia? Paul moaned and pushed himself up on his elbows, but Richard was already up, reaching for the phone on the bedside table, fumbling with it. Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck.

_“So, this ma...”_

“’llo?” Paul listened intently, trying to hear what Cynthia was saying, but her voice was low. “No, this is Richard, his life partner.”

There was a pause and then the light of the phone came on indicating that Cynthia had hung up. Richard blinked and looked at the display for a minute before flipping it closed and setting it back down. “Who’s Cynthia?”

Paul scowled and laid back down, ignoring the question. A moment later a hand fisted in his hair, pulling his head up again. “Who. Is. Cynthia?”

“Chick. I met. At the club.”

Richard smiled lazily, and kissed him firmly on the lips. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He got out of the bed and ambled towards the bathroom, leaving the door open while he took a piss.

Paul rolled over and sat up, leaning against the wall. The past three weeks had been utter hell. He’d always thought he knew Richard. No matter what anyone said, he knew Richard, but the truth was he didn’t. He knew nothing and after these last three weeks, he was beginning to understand. Richard was fucking crazy. That was all there was to it.

The cell phones had both been locked with new passwords. Richard never left him alone, eating with him, sleeping with him, driving with him. When they were on the set he insisted that they always be on set together and Richard never allowed him to take his wallet with him, so even if he did try and make a run for it, he had no money and he certainly didn’t have a car. What made it worse was that Paul was terrified to even try to leave. Not because he thought Richard would hurt him, but because if he was out of his sight, Richard might skip town as well, heading back to Los Angeles to take care of his little problem.

The shower turned on and Paul sighed, pushing himself off the bed. He’d barely taken two steps toward the bedroom door when he heard Richard calling for him. “Paul, get in here. You need a shower.”

“I need sex” was left out, but it was there, none the less. That was another thing that Paul had never realized about Richard. He’d known that he liked it hard and rough, but he hadn’t realized the sheer sadistic pleasure that Richard took from his victims and that was what Paul felt like now. He was just another victim and the worst part was he had no doubt that if Richard thought he was losing control over him, Paul really would be another one of his boys, dead in an unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere.

He sighed and shrugged it off. He’d had enough sex with Richard that he could deal with this. No matter how vicious and rough, he could grit his teeth and take it. The only thing he had trouble with as he braced his palms on the wet tile of the huge standing shower and accepted the feel of Richard’s hands on him body, opening him with spit and a finger, was the realization that Mitch had been in his place. Little, sheepish Mitch with the hesitant smile and heart stopping laugh had been pressed against a shower and fucked ruthlessly and without care until he’d bled.

Fifteen minutes later, he cringed as he pulled on his jeans over his still wet legs. It was four in the morning and they had an hour before they had to be on set, but Richard figured that since they were up, they might as well get an early start. It was going to be a long three hours for Richard and him in makeup.

Richard came out of the closet, pulling his sweater on over his head. “We’re leaving.”

Paul grabbed his t-shirt, shoving it haphazardly on as he followed Richard to the door, pushing his bare feet into his shoes and cursing heavily, grabbing his jacket as he half tripped out the door and down the hall. “Richard, hold up!”

With a backward glance, Richard hit the button for the elevator. “Hurry, sweatheart.”

“God damn it!” Paul locked the door and hopped the last few steps, pulling his left shoe the rest of the way on at the elevator doors, glaring at Richard. “You could have fucking well waited for me.”

Richard smiled at him unconcerned. “Careful now, the walls have ears.”

Paul looked over and saw a woman standing in the corner, watching them in the reflective surface of the wall. He sighed, “Shit.”

Since they’d been in England, he had been constantly under the scrutiny. He had thought the paparazzi in America was bad, but at least they were obvious, with camera’s flashing in your face at every turn and questions being shouted at you. Here, there were spies everywhere and you could never quite tell what they were going to do. Sometimes there were cameras and microphones and sometimes it was Harry bloody Normal who managed to overhear the right thing or pull out his camera at the right time.

Smiling at the civilian, Richard wrap an arm around his ‘life partner.’ “Cranky lover, the hazards of waking up at this ungodly hour.”

She smiled a little and he breathed an inward sigh of relief. Anything to keep the people oblivious. They walked in silence, keeping a foot between them. He would have made it more, but he couldn’t chance that some rich doctor’s wife would see it and flash a picture of them. Then the citizens of the greater United Kingdom would be reading about their lovers’ tiff before the day was up.

On that thought, he stepped closer to Richard and took his hand. Richard squeezed it back and he felt the moment approaching. He’d taken it at least once every day, sometimes twice. Even if he’d known it wouldn’t do any good. “Richard...”

“We’re not discussing that, Paul.”

“He hasn’t said anything, he’s not going to. Let it be...”

“Don’t be an idiot, Paul.”

“He’s only fif...”

Before he could finish that, he found himself pressed against a chain link fence, his hands on either side his head and Richard’s hot breath against the side of his face. “I am aware of his age, have been since his name came up on my fucking television, _sweatheart_ , and you’ve made damn sure I didn’t forget it. If I hear,” he raised his voice mockingly, “‘he’s fifteen’ one more fucking time, I will tie you to a tree and make you watch as I _gut_ him. Do I make myself clear?”

Paul closed his eyes, concentrating on breathing. “Yes, Richard.” He just had to hold on. Just one more week until they were on their way back and any day now he could get his fabulous opportunity to get away and maybe he really would, because he wasn’t giving up on Mitch and he wasn’t going to sit back and watch Richard kill him.

 

 

*****

 

 

Henry Dearing stared at the report in front of him blankly. They’d searched through everything in the bags, absolutely everything and come up with nothing. Not a single shred of evidence connecting them to anyone who could even possibly be the kidnapper. Nothing in there had any kind of serial number or identifying mark. Well, there had been some school books registered to a Jeremy Gerring, who went to a private school in Rolling Hills but a quick search and it turned out that Jeremy Gerring was only sixteen and he’d sold his school books to a local shop some months ago.

He looked up at his son through the dining room window. Mitch was in the backyard with Cynthia. They’d spent a lot of time out of doors recently, a stark contrast to the way things had been before his son disappeared. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the sounds of Cynthia, Mark and Mitch sitting in the living room, elbowing each other while they played video games, slinging half hearted insults in low tones to avoid getting in trouble for using language that was strictly prohibited in the Dearing household.

That wasn’t how it was anymore and he didn’t need years on the force to know it would never be that way again. What had happened to his son... god, it made him physically ill to think about. He’d rarely seen cases where that kind of thing had ended up in the child coming home safely, not without police intervention. So, what, or more precisely, who had brought his son home? There was, of course, the possibility that he had escaped on his own and hitched a ride home, but somehow, Henry doubted that.

Mitch gave a half smile and kicked the little swing back, letting it sway. With a sigh, Henry got up from the table and went back down the hall, stopping in front of Mitch’s bedroom door. He hadn’t been in the room since Mitch had come home. For two and a half months it had been kept in perfect, pristine condition, like time had stopped and he’d gone in it at least once a day and sat on the bed, crying. Not that he’d told Margarete that. Not that he’d had any delusions she didn’t do the same.

Slowly, he opened the door and stepped inside. Frank had told him what Mitch had done, ripping the posters down. He should have known his son was gay. It didn’t mattered to him, but if he’d known, he could have done things differently - the lecture on date rape would have been quite a bit different. Henry looked at the bare walls spitefully. There had been pictures of half naked men plastered all over his room, but for every two boys on the wall, there was at least one girl draped between them and he’d deluded himself into thinking Mitch was putting them up for that girl.

Deluding himself. It wasn’t something Henry did often, he couldn’t afford to. As the Chief of Police, he needed to look at the facts and accept the truth at face value so that he could assess the situation clearly. Sitting on the bed, he looked at the night stand and picked up the little iPod on it, turning it over in his hand with a bemused smile. Hell, if the posters hadn’t been a dead give away, the pink iPod should have been.

Wait, Mitch didn’t have an iPod. He stared at it in shock. Mitch had asked for one for his birthday, but Margaret had said that it was too expensive. Two hundred dollars plus a subscription to a website where he could download music legally and he’d probably need a new computer, because his was so old it wouldn’t run the programs. If Mitch hadn’t had an iPod before he’d left, then whoever had him must have given it to him and iPods, unlike DVD’s and books, had traceable serial numbers.

Quickly, he grabbed a pencil from Mitch’s desk and a piece of paper, scribbling down the number on the back of the device before carefully replacing it where he’d found it. Dr. Chang had said that Mitch was secretive to the point of paranoia about the identity of his captor, rarely even referring to him by any name at all, let alone giving up a last one, and as much as Henry wanted to wring the truth out of his son, he didn’t want to scare him into running away. He had just shut the door to Mitch’s room when he heard the backdoor open. “Mom? Dad?”

He rushed down the hall, shoving the paper in his pocket and wiping the guilty, excited expression off his face. Mitch was standing in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge. He looked up when he heard his father come in. “Dad, are we out of juice?”

“Your mother went to get some more. She should be back soon.”

Mitch smiled, but there was no mistaking the waver in it. “Okay. Thanks.”

He went back outside and Henry moved to the dining room, watching them again through the window. Mitch was so much more fragile than when he’d left. Physically and emotionally. When he laughed, it was almost always forced, when he smiled, it never quite reached his eyes. He responded to some things with violent withdrawal and others with placid detachment. He always had to have a window open in whatever room he was in, even at night. He still wasn’t eating nearly enough and even with weight gain pills it was slow going.

The doctors had only given Margaret an overview of what they’d found, but Henry had read the details in their reports, outlining the various forms of tortures that they either suspected or knew for a fact had been performed of Mitch. He’d find the man that had hurt his little boy and he’d make damned sure he could never hurt anyone else again. If the justice system failed, then he’d hunt him down himself and whoever it was had better pray that it didn’t come to that.

 

 

*****

 

 

Cynthia watched Mitch on the swing from the corner of her eye. In the past few days he had become a lot more relaxed at home. He’d started to occasionally pick up a snack or eat more than a few bites of his food. He still didn’t like to stay indoors and she’d noticed that whenever they were inside, he made a point of opening a window, but still, it was progress. Of course, the aborted attempt at going to school had been disappointing, but Cynthia had said that she refused to go back until he did and her mother hadn’t wanted to fight her on it.

Her mother had given in on a lot of things recently. Cynthia was still grounded, but she was permitted to go to the Dearings as long as she was home by dinner. She could watch television, but only after she’d done all her chores. Really, it was like she wasn’t grounded at all, but she wasn’t about to point that out.

“Do you want to take a walk?”

Mitch shrugged and got off the swing, waving at his father through the window. Chief Dearing waved back and the two of them set off. They couldn’t be gone very long, or someone would come looking for them, but they’d have at least fifteen minutes before that happened.

“I, uh, I took a pregnancy test.”

Mitch came up short. “What did it say?”

She cringed. “I am one hundred percent knocked up at the age of fifteen.”

“What are you going to do?”

She shrugged and they walked on in silence for a little while. Cynthia had gone over every option she had very carefully and she liked none of them. There was abortion, but she didn’t like the idea. She’d always been pro-choice, but faced with it now, she wasn’t sure she could go through with it.

If she kept it, though, how would that affect Mitch? He’d said that Paul had been nice to him, helped him, but Cynthia wasn’t foolish enough to believe that made Paul innocent of all wrong doing. He had left Mitch there for two and a half months, he’d seen, if not participated in the rapes and the torture and she remembered very clearly what Paul had said.

_Richard does these crazy drugs, I don’t even know what they’re called or what they do, but they make... they make me want to have sex._

Most likely, those were the same drugs they had forced on Mitch and as much as she wanted to believe that Paul wouldn’t have done anything, it just made more sense to think that he had. Especially the way Mitch looked hurt and confused whenever the man was mentioned.

So, if she kept it, she was keeping the baby of one of Mitch’s rapists. Would that mean that Paul would want to come around? That he’d want to see it? That would make things even worse - bad enough to have the baby around, but to have the rapist himself popping in every so often... that was just unthinkable.

“Are you going to get rid of it?”

She sighed and resisted the urge to put her hand over her stomach. “I don’t think so. I’m just not sure what to do.”

Mitch nodded knowingly. “Have you told Paul?”

She didn’t miss the slight flinch in her friend’s face as he said the name, but she ignored it. “I called him, but Richard answered.” It took her a minute to realize that Mitch had fallen behind again. “Mitch, are you...?”

“Richard answered?” His face was pale and he was shaking.

“Mitch, it’s not that big a deal. He doesn’t know who I am and I hung up right away.”

Mitch took several deep breathes, but his chest was so tight it hurt to breathe. He could hardly count the number of times Paul had been over and his cell phone had gone off while he was out of the room. Richard had never picked it up. He always scowled at it and yelled at Paul to hurry, but he never picked it up. “You don’t understand. They do not pick up each other’s cell. They throw them at each other, or they let them ring, but they do not pick them up.”

“You never know, Mitch, Paul could have told him to, or...”

“No. He never picks it up.” But he had. Richard had picked up Paul’s cell and that meant that something had happened to Paul. Was he hurt? Dead? Had Richard locked him up somewhere and left him? The only thing Mitch knew for sure was that it meant Richard wasn’t happy with what Paul had done and that meant... that meant that he would be coming back for Mitch, didn’t it?

“Cynthia, I want you to do something for me.” She was confused, but didn’t argue with him. “Your mom still has a gun, right?” Now she opened her mouth to argue, but he plunged forward. “Get it and keep it with you. I need you to trust me on this. I know them better than anyone else, okay? And if I’m wrong, then I’m wrong, but at least you’re safe.”

His desperation was unnerving. He really believed that this meant something and he did know them better than she did. What if he was right? If Richard was going to come after anyone, it would be Mitch. “What about you? If you really think he could come after you, you have to tell someone. You have to...”

“Cynthia, I can’t.” Mitch was shaking worse than ever and his eyes were brimming with tears. He was desperate and scared.

Cursing, she nodded and did the only thing she could think of. She lied. “Okay. Okay, let’s drop it for now. I’ll get my mom’s gun and... and you’re home all the time anyway, right? Your dad’s got plenty of guns you can use to protect yourself until we figure something else out.”

It killed her a little, watching Mitch sniff back tears and force a smile onto his face. It was like watching a five-year-old child, but this was her fifteen-year-old best friend. She couldn’t let this go on any longer. Mitch had said the only way to keep him safe was not to tell, but obviously that wasn’t true. Besides, Richard Carter needed to be behind bars and if she had to break her promise to Mitch to see it done, she would.

First chance she got to speak with Mitch’s father alone, she would tell him everything. Mitch may never speak to her again, but at least he’d be safe.

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

Any day now. That’s what he’d said, but he sure as hell hadn’t believed it.

“Mr. Zalinsky?”

He blinked at the little girl with her notebook again, blinking like a deer caught in the headlights. “Excuse me?”

“I said, do you need a ride back to your apartment?”

Glancing over his shoulder, he watched Richard on set, arguing with the director on what he probably thought was a pivotal moment for his character. That was one of the few things about Richard the Paul could still say was good. He took his job very seriously and he put everything he had into what he did.

So far, there hadn’t been a single scene that they weren’t both in as the director had been trying to make up for the lost footage they’d shot with the other supporting actor. Paul still wasn’t sure what had made him quit, but he hadn’t felt like speculating on it. Mostly, because he thought he had a fairly good idea already. He watched Richard glare at a young girl that had gotten too close and she moved quickly back to stand with the other extras.

“Am I... am I done for the day?”

She looked around the set nervously. “Yes?”

He glanced back at Richard, how was setting up for the shot, a stern scowl on his face. “Does he know that?”

She opened and shut her mouth for a moment before finally looking at Richard and back at Paul. “No, I don’t think so. The director decided that he wanted to focus on Richard for the rest of today. He may need you later, but I doubt it.”

Paul stared at Richard for a minute, ignoring the hopelessly confused girl in front of him. Finally, he felt his stomach drop at the realization that this was his opportunity and he’d have to take it, because he wasn’t going to get another one.

“Can you do me a favor, hon?” She blushed, but nodded and he gave her his most winning smile. “If Richard asks, I went back to the apartment, okay? If he doesn’t ask, doesn’t notice, don’t say anything.” He dropped his voice. “We’re having a bit of a small fight and I wouldn’t mind a few hours to myself to think it over.”

If there was one thing Richard had taught him over the years it was how to manipulate people. She nodded hastily and he winked, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Thanks, you’re a doll.”

Paul took one last, dark look at Richard, who wasn’t paying him any attention. He had no delusions that he’d be able to get a full day’s head start, but a few hours, maybe, and that was all he needed.

 

 

*****

 

 

Mitch’d had nightmares before. Cynthia had seen them when he used to sleep over at her house some years ago. They always included him kicking and hitting the air, and yelling wordlessly. This was somehow worse. Mitch was curled up on his side, breathing heavily, his fists tightly clenched mumbling ‘no’ over and over, but he wasn’t really moving and he wasn’t trying to get away from anything. He’d told her that Richard had made it clear to him that there was no getting away, but for it to have gone so deep that it affected even his dreams...

She shuddered a little and levered herself over his windowsill, tumbling into his room gracelessly. It was just past midnight, but she hadn’t been able to sleep. She was determined to tell Mitch’s father, but after countless hours agonizing over it, she’d decided that she owed it to tell Mitch what she was going to do before she did it. So, she’d gotten dressed and walked the two streets over in the pitch black and snuck up to the window she knew would be open, because he’d told her he unlocked it as soon as everyone was asleep.

Reaching out, she gently shook Mitch... and found herself flat on her ass on the floor, a sharp thudding pain in her chest. Pressing a hand to the ache, she looked up to see Mitch cowering in the corner of his bed, panting harshly with his unfocused eyes staring through her.

Her breath caught in her throat and she couldn’t force out a single word. She’d never seen anyone look so completely terrified, she wasn’t even sure how to describe it now, because the look was slowly fading as Mitch’s eyes came into focus. “Cynthia?”

She put a finger to her lips and sat up, rubbing her chest pointedly, whispering, “You told me you were having nightmares, you didn’t tell me you were attacking innocent bystanders.”

Mitch flushed, but she smiled. “It’s okay, my fault for being here at this hour, actually.”

Scooting over, he motioned for her to sit down, which she did. “What are you doing here?”

It was clear that all thoughts of sleep had been forgotten and she thought maybe that was for the better. In fact, she was also going to suggest that his parents start giving him sleeping pills, because the trouble with his appetite might also have to do his inability to get a good night’s sleep.

“I’ve decided on something and I wanted to let you know before I did it.”

“You’re getting an abortion?”

She looked over sharply, but Mitch was staring at the floor. “No, Mitch, that’s not it. I… I’m not getting rid of it.”

He lifted his gaze and saw the strangest thing in it. Hope. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

A smile spread over his face, “Good, because... you know, I don’t think I told you this before, but I like Paul. A lot, actually. If it wasn’t dangerous for him, I’d... I dunno. The doctor says it’s not healthy. He calls it Stock… something Syndrome - where you identify with your captors - but that’s not it, because I don’t identify with Richard or any of the others and Paul was never one of them, not really. I’m just saying, you don’t have to get rid of it because of me. I think I’d kind of like it, actually.”

He paused and the smile changed, turning into the wicked kind of smile that Cynthia hadn’t seen since before his disappearance. “If nothing else, it’ll take the attention away from me.”

Playfully, she punched his arm and couldn’t hold back the little chuckle in her throat. He was getting better, he really was. Despite all the evidence to the contrary, here they were, in the middle of the night and he was laughing and smiling and joking around and for once there wasn’t anything forced about it. Of course, that just made what she had to say more difficult.

“Mitch, I wanted to tell you that... I’m going to tell your father everything.”

Instantly, the color drained from his face. “You what?”

“Tomorrow. I’ll be coming over first thing in the morning.”

His mouth opened and closed, unable to get any sound out, and when he finally did manage to talk, it sounded like his throat was closed. “Why?!”

“Because you’re not safe...”

“I am. I told you, as long as I keep my mouth shut, I’m perfectly safe. If you tell...”

She grabbed his shoulders. “You are not safe, Mitch. You said it yourself, they don’t answer each other’s phones. I’ve been thinking about it and that means that something’s probably happened to Paul and if Richard’s the one answering his line, then he’s the one who did it. If he’s hurt Paul, then it’s because Paul let you go and he’ll hurt you next!”

Mitch pulled away from her and his look of betrayal was heartbreaking. “I can handle Richard.”

“You can’t handle Richard, that’s why I’m here! Look at yourself, Mitch, you’re shaking all over at the mere mention of him. You’ve got me carrying around,” she let go of him and pulled the little revolver out of her waistband, “this to keep myself safe. You obviously think he’s going to try and come for you and I’m not going to let that happen.”

He stood up from the bed, backing away from her defensively. “Go ahead, then. Tell anyone you want, because I obviously can’t stop you.”

Standing up as well, she put the gun back in her jeans and tried to touch Mitch’s arm, only to have him jerk away. _I couldn’t stop him. Anything he wanted to do, he just did it and there wasn’t anything I could say or do to make a difference._ Oh, hell. “That’s not fair. I’m not doing this to hurt you.”

“But you are. I’m telling you that I’m safe as long as no one knows and you don’t care. Just leave.”

She reached out again, but he jerked back, violently this time, slamming his shoulder into the wall. “I said, leave!”

It echoed through the room and Cynthia wondered if it had woken anyone up. Not that it mattered. Reluctantly, she went back to the window and slipped out, looking at her shaking friend with watering eyes. “I’m sorry, Mitch, but it’s for the best. You can’t hide from him forever.”

“Go?” The energy had drained out of it, leaving it more of a request and she sighed, obeying.

The night seemed even colder now and she wrapped her arms around herself as she started down the path. This was ridiculous. Why had she ever thought that telling him what she was going to do would make anything better? She knew Mitch. She knew him better than she knew herself at times and she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wasn’t going to listen to reason on this. He was always hiding from everything. When they were seven and the teacher had said she was going to call his parents about a bad test score, he’d gone to Cynthia’s and hidden under her bed. When they’d been ten and one of the bullies kept stealing his lunch money, he started going to school late to avoid him. Last year when Mitch had first realized Mark had a crush on him, he refused to be around the other boy without Cynthia with him so he could hide behind her.

She stopped and cursed, looking back at the road she’d just crossed. He was always hiding and that’s what he’d do this time, too, wasn’t it? He’d run away if he had to, just so long as he didn’t have to face this and she couldn’t let that happen.

Turning around, she started back towards Mitch’s house. That was when she noticed the car.


	16. Chapter 16

Cynthia was right, Mitch knew she was, but that wasn’t any big surprise, because in the grand scheme of things, Cynthia was usually right. Richard had probably done something to Paul and if he had, then Mitch was next and as much as Mitch might say otherwise, he knew he couldn’t handle Richard.

Sitting on his bed, he dropped his head and forced himself to breathe. What was the worst that could happen if she told? A media circus came to mind. His chest tightened and he drew his breath in, slow and steady. Richard was famous and the media would be all over this. Everything Mitch said would be scrutinized and he remembered very well what Paul had said all those months ago. Regardless of his age, it would be one testimony against six and even with medical evidence it would be sketchy.

He lifted his head and scanned his room. He could run away. It was so tempting, but it wouldn’t really solve anything. Besides, where would he go? Throwing himself back onto his bed, he stared at his ceiling blankly. He was being stupid again. Cynthia was right and he knew it. He couldn’t run from this, but he could face it.

With a defeated laugh, he tested the feeling on his tongue. “Richard raped me.” That didn’t sound right. “Wayne Guider raped me.” That sounded worse. “Richard Carter. It was Richard Carter.” Not just Richard anymore. That last name added so much to it. It made it a person.

He closed his eyes and sighed. He’d have to apologize to Cynthia tomorrow.

“Mitch?”                                                                                                        

That sounded like… His eyes snapped open, his head simultaneously turning to the window where he saw Paul’s face poking through the curtains. If Mitch thought it was cold outside, that was nothing compared to his suddenly frozen inside. His stomach dropped and his throat closed, it took great effort just to force out even a single word.

“Paul?”

“I’m so glad you’re safe.” Paul lifted himself up and slid into the room, dropping to the floor in a crouch. “I was afraid I wouldn’t get here first, afraid I’d miscalculate or...”

Mitch sat up as Paul stood. He felt defensive, on edge... hopeful. “What are you doing here?”

With a grin, Paul walked up to him. The man was so much bigger than him and he felt small, looking up as Paul leaned down and took his face in his hands, kissing him softly on the mouth. “We have to get out of here. Get some stuff together. If you need anything else, I’ll buy it for you.”

Mitch didn’t move. They had to go? But he’d just gotten home. In Richard’s room, time had almost stopped. Every minute had felt like hours. Here... here it felt like only yesterday that he’d stepped out of Paul’s car. “Where are we going?”

Paul grabbed his iPod off the desk and unplugged the charger, passing it to Mitch. “Anything else?”

Hesitantly, Mitch shook his head and Paul took him by his arms, lifting him up gently. “We have to go now, okay?”

Mitch didn’t move. “Where?”

“I don’t know.” Paul started for the window and Mitch pulled back.

“I...” He was torn and confused. “I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“Mitch, I love you.” Paul didn’t even have to hesitate. He’d had thirteen hours on a plane to think this through and he knew one thing for certain - he’d do anything it took to protect Mitch. He wasn’t for sure that he loved Mitch, but he’d say it, because he thought maybe Mitch might come with him if he did.

Falling back onto the bed, Mitch stared at him with too large eyes. “You what?”

“I love you and I’m going to protect you, but I can’t do that if we stay here.” Clothes, Mitch would need clothes, at least some. Grabbing the school bag off the floor, he dumped its contents and went to the dresser.

“What?”

“Richard knows where you live, or he’ll find it and I think maybe I’ve got a few hours on him, but that’s about it.”

“Richard?”

Paul heard the desperate panic in Mitch’s small voice and stopped throwing clothes in the bag and looked back. Cursing, he dropped what he was doing and fell to his knees in front of the pale, shaking boy. “Come on, breathe, Mitch, it’ll be okay. I’m going to take care of you. We’ll get in my car and drive somewhere safe that I know Richard won’t find and then we’ll call the police and tell them everything. As soon as they’ve picked him up, I’ll bring you right back here, okay?”

Mitch’s hand touched his and he took the slender fingers in his own, turning the hand up and kissing the palm. After a moment Mitch nodded and Paul smiled, grabbing the bag and thrusting it at the boy. “Let’s get out of here.”

He climbed out the window first and then offered a hand to Mitch, who crawled out after him, nearly falling into the grass. Paul took the bag from him and grabbed his elbows to help him stand. “My car’s around the...” but Mitch wasn’t looking at him. Mitch was looking past him and the shock that was written on his face told Paul everything he needed to know.

“Oh, fuck me.”

“Got it in one, Paul. I always knew you were smart.” It was Richard and no matter how jovial his words may have sounded, Paul didn’t have to turn around to know that he was utterly pissed. It was all there in the tight undertone of his voice. “Mitchell-dear, come over here.”

Paul hadn’t looked away from Mitch’s face, so he didn’t miss the minute shake of his head. Paul tightened his grip on the boy’s elbows. “He’s not going anywhere with you.” He winced as a gun cocked behind him.

“Yes, he is, because if he doesn’t, I will find that little friend of his and I’ll show her exactly what he went through before I cut her open. What do you think, Mitch? Yhink I can make her cry?” Mitch sagged in Paul’s grip. He’d stopped shaking. “You know, Paul, that was pretty stupid of you, talking to the kid’s friend, but I guess you didn’t know who she was, did you? Hell, I didn’t even figure it out until I was half way here. Now, what say you let him come to me.”

“Richard, please...”

“Shut it, Paul.” Paul closed his eyes and cringed as he reluctantly let go of Mitch and the kid walked away from him, towards Richard. He’d fucked this up so bad. He should have gone to the police first. He should have... he should have phoned Mitch’s father, hell, anything. Turning around, he faced Richard. There was a deadly confidence about his best friend, the man he’d thought he knew.

Richard grabbed Mitch’s arm as soon as he got close enough, yanking him to him, but he kept the gun aimed at Paul. Richard was impeccably dressed, his hair still damp from a fresh shower, an unwrinkled white, button down shirt, untucked around a pair of acid wash jeans that pressed tightly against Richard’s thighs. He’d been back in Los Angeles long enough to go home and get his gun and a shower.

With a tisk, Richard shoved the boy behind him, towards the running car at the curb. “Get in the front seat, Mitchell-dear. If you try anything, I’ll shoot Paul.”

Paul had to force himself to focus on Richard, because if he watched Mitch, he would have to see the defeated boy crawl into Richard’s car without a word or even a sound and pull his knees up, wrapping his arms around them defensively. “Richard...”

“No, you are going to shut your god damned mouth and do exactly what I say. You are going to go around the corner, get in your car, and follow me. We’ll take care of this together.”

Paul flushed angrily. “I’m not helping you kill him.”

Richard shrugged, “Maybe not, but you will come with me, because you know that if you don’t, he’ll die alone.” Stepping forward, Richard moved behind Paul, leaving him an unobstructed view of Mitch, and pressed the gun to his cheek, whispering, “Imagine his face, Paul, scared, looking around for help while I wrap my hands around that delicate little throat. Do you think he’ll fight me? They usually do, but then Mitch isn’t like the others, is he? If I hadn’t gotten that offer, I might have just kept him. He’s so perfectly _broken._ ”

Bile rose in his throat, but Paul forced it down.

“So, you get in your car, and then he’ll have someone to look at, someone he trusts that can be there when he dies. If you’re good, maybe I’ll let you hold his hand.” Richard danced out of the way, laughing when Paul forgot himself and turned around, swinging at thin air. “Ah, ah, Paul, you know better than that.”

Richard couldn’t help smiling. This was so much fun. Not to say that Paul hadn’t always been fun, but over the years it had become a bit tedious. Now, the impotent rage in his best friend was palpable and Richard moved forward, holding the gun to Paul’s temple. This wasn’t just fun, this was fucking hot. He pressed his lips to Paul’s, savoring the way they meshed together, even when Paul wasn’t willing for it. Lovers since forever, Richard knew everything about Paul - about his body, about his emotions, about where to touch him to make him respond.

Pulling away, Richard put his nose to Paul’s and whispered, “Get in your car, Paul, and try and keep up. You wouldn’t to lose Mitchell-dear. Not just yet, anyway.”

He backed up and held out the gun in a purposefully lazy fashion until Paul finally relented and turned, walked through the yards to where his car was parked. Richard waited patiently for him to round the corner out of sight before relaxing his posture, tucking the gun in the back of his pants. Paul was a problem, but one that he had plenty of time to fix. The problem in his car, however, needed immediate tending.

Storming up to the car, he glowered down at the boy. Mitch’s muddy feet were on the seat, dirtying it with heel prints and his arms were wrapped around his knees as he stared fixedly forward. “Put you’re fucking head down.”

He slammed the door and Mitch immediately dropped his feet to the floor, ducking his head down to rest on his knees. Richard got in the driver’s seat and looked at the boy, fighting the urge to bite at his lower lip. It was a habit he’d broken himself of when he’d decided to be an actor, but occasionally it came back to haunt him.

He hadn’t lied to Paul, the kid was well and truly broken. His reaction to Richard, utter terror followed by complete resignation, was all the testament he needed to that, but still... it wouldn’t do for Mitch to come back to his senses and try to jump out of the car, or something equally as stupid.

“Sit up.”

Mitch did so, saying nothing even if Richard could see the confusion on his face. Opening the glove compartment, Richard pulled out the small bottle and rag that he’d thrown in before leaving.

It had been a near thing actually. He’d almost missed it, but the little assistant had been so nervous when she’d brought him his coffee, that it had been obvious something was up. A quick look around had confirmed that Paul was nowhere on set and after a few minutes of interrogation, the girl had admitted that he’d left, saying they were having a fight and he wanted some time alone.

Time alone indeed. A call to the driver had further confirmed his suspicions. Paul had made a stop at the apartment and then been dropped off at the airport not thirty minutes prior. The only thing that had saved him was that unlike Paul, Richard didn’t have to be secretive. All it took was a few minutes explaining that he and Paul were indeed having a fight, that it over something stupid that would sort itself out in a few days, but that Paul had jumped a plane back to America. The director had been so horrified at the idea that he’d have to re-film the footage yet again that he’d readily agreed to let Richard use his private jet.

So, while Paul had been sitting at the airport, waiting to board his plane, Richard had been in the air, on his way. He’d gotten a good three hours on him, enough time to go home, get cleaned up, grab his gun and anything else that looked handy, including the chloroform he kept in the storage room. Shaking a good amount of it onto the rag, he grabbed Mitch’s head with one hand and held it over the boy’s nose and mouth with his other.

“Breathe.”

The other thing he loved about Mitch was that while he may have been broken, he still fought on occasion, usually when it was too late to do any good, but that made it all the better. At Richard’s command, he had shook his head as best he could and determinedly held his breath, trying to tug free of Richard’s grip on his face. His finger nails bit into Richard’s hands and he kicked his feet against the floor of the car, but it didn’t matter, because he wasn’t going anywhere and they both knew it.

Less than a minute later, Richard felt the pull of fabric as Mitch sucked air into his starving lungs and watched the satisfying roll of Mitch’s eyes as the drug pulled him into unconsciousness. The first time he’d had to use this stuff was with Greg. He’d had it with Duncan, but Duncan hadn’t tried anything and even if he had, it wouldn’t have mattered. No one was going to pick Duncan out in a passing car, hell, only a hand full of people probably even knew he was missing. Violent tempered Greg, on the other hand, had been a different story.

Richard put the bottle back in the glove compartment and shut it, leaning Mitch over so the kid’s head rested on Richard’s lap, out of view to any passerby.

If Mitch thought he’d had it bad, he would have been horrified to know what Greg had gone through. Sure, Greg hadn’t been hit, because he’d thought at the time Paul would draw a line there, and he had also never been forced to suck cock, because with the way he gnashed his teeth when anyone came near him, no one was putting anything in or even near his mouth, but there were worse things; like having your head forced under water during sex, or having to stare at blank walls for a week because the television had been taken away entirely, or being forced to go nude for almost a month because you fought too much over taking your clothes off. Richard had found many, many ways of keeping Greg in line.

He’d find ways to keep Paul in line, too.

With a happy sigh, he put the car in drive and rolled forward. In just an hour, he’d be rid of Mitch and without the kid there to cloud things up, Paul would be his again.

 

 

*****

 

 

Paul beat his hand against his steering wheel, taking several deep breathes before following Richard out onto the road. This was fucking crazy, it was insane. What was he doing? What was he thinking? Was he even thinking at all?

It was past midnight and there was almost no traffic on the road, not that it would have mattered, because Paul couldn’t see Mitch’s head in the car anyway and there wasn’t much hope that anyone else would. He turned onto the main street, matching Richard’s speed.

How the hell had Richard gotten here so fast? God, but Paul had royally fucked this up beyond any semblance of repair. Richard had Mitch and Paul was forced to drive along behind them like some puppy. He didn’t know how he could even hope to keep Richard from doing what he was planning to, but he did know he had to try.

As focused as he was on his thoughts, it was no wonder that when Cynthia popped her head up into his rear view mirror and said, “Hey,” he nearly swerved off the road.

Righting the car, he looked back at her sheepish, pale face and gaped for several seconds before he could respond. “What in the fuck are you doing in the back of my car?!” She started to sit up, but he reached back, pressing down on her. “No, just stay the hell down and answer the question.”

“We needed to talk.”

Cursing, he watched for any sign that Richard knew what was going on behind him. He’d slowed down a little, but wasn’t pulling over. Adjusting his mirror so he could see her, he tried to think of something to say. “This... is not a good time, Cynthia.”

She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow, “Oh, well, then, let me just step out of the moving car. What is going on, anyway? Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be in England with lover-boy making a movie or something?”

“I do not appreciate your sarcasm right now.” She didn’t respond and he sighed, looking at the angry set of her jaw. “All right, look, I came back to get Mitch. Richard wants to... finish him off and I was trying to get here and get Mitch out before Richard could.”

“Trying?”

“Yeah, well, Richard showed up.”

Cynthia sat up a little and Paul reached back, pushing her lower again, nearly swerving into the other lane in his haste. “What happened?”

“I’m in my car alone without him, shoving your head down. What do you think happened?” She didn’t say anything and he stared forward. “Richard had a gun and he took Mitch. He wants me to follow him to wherever he plans on...” He couldn’t say it this time, because Cynthia had turned a funny shade of yellow and he was afraid she’d be sick. “Calm down, I’m not going to let him.”

“What are you going to do? Call the police?”

“Not unless you have your phone on you.” She shook her head. “I’ll work out something when we get there, okay? Right now, I need you to keep out of sight.” She nodded and slunk even further onto the floor of his backseat.

They drove in silence for a while, Paul’s temper bowling near the surface. What the hell had she been thinking? He had aided and abetted in the kidnapping and rape of her best friend and she just got into his car without a cell phone or any means of protecting herself?

Not that Cynthia being there made much difference. He’d still be fighting Richard, he’d just be doing it for two people, because if he lost, Cynthia was in danger now, too. Actually, now that he thought about it, Cynthia would have been in danger if he lost, anyway. Richard knew who she was, knew Paul had talked to her and if anyone knew Paul’s failings, it was Richard. He probably wouldn’t take the chance guessing as to whether or not she’d gotten anything out of him. When he finished with Mitch, he’d hunt her down as well.

This whole thing was completely out of control. How had it gotten this far? How could he not have figured out what Richard was doing? It seemed so obvious now. In fact, it was the only thing that made sense when he thought about...

“Paul, I’m pregnant.”

He twisted bodily in the seat to look at her, turning the steering wheel with him and nearly driving them into the ditch on the side of the road. The tires thumping along the warning ridges of the shoulder shocked him back into focus and he turned back around, getting both hands on the steering wheel as he righted the car. “You’re what?!”

She was gripping the seat in front of her, her eyes wide. “Pregnant, so I’d really appreciate it if you kept the car _on_ the road.”

Pregnant? How could she be pregnant, she was only fifteen, and why would she be telling him any... “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes.”

He glared at the road. “Are you sure it’s mine?”

He didn’t need to look to feel her anger. “I’m fifteen, I don’t exactly go around spreading my legs for the entire school, you know.”

“You spread them for me readily enough.” She swatted him, hard, and the car jerked a little. “Hey, watch it, I’m driving, and keep your god damn head down!”

“I only slept with you because I knew there was something you weren’t telling me! If you’d only fessed up to everything in the first place, none of this would have happened.”

“You what?! How did you know I wasn’t telling you everything?”

She sat up a little, but was careful to keep her head below the top of the seats. “Come on, Paul, honestly. You’re like an open book.”

_“Paul, buddy, get your lazy ass up.”_

They both froze as the sound of Richard’ voice filling the car.

“God damn fucking…” Lifting up, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

“I thought you didn’t have a cell.”

He waved at her to be silent and hit the speaker button, sliding it into the clip on his visor. He hadn’t been able to work out the password on the plane, but he’d brought it with him anyway. He couldn’t remember a time since he was seventeen that he didn’t have the thing plastered to his ass through the back of his pants.

“Hey, Richard.”

“What the hell is going on back there?”

Paul flinched and cast a scathing glare at Cynthia through the rearview. “I’m just thinking.”

“About what?”

He sighed and closed his eyes for a minute before opening them again to watch the road. What he wouldn’t give for a coffee about now, or  a smoke or anything to clear his head. “When you had the black eye, after you took Greg home, what really happened?”

Richard chuckled, “Is that all?”

“Just answer the question.”

“Greg wasn’t as gullible as you, Paul. The moment I told him he was ‘going home,’ he tried to jump me, but you remember Greg. He was, what, five foot six? Fighter or not, he couldn’t hope to get the better of me. A sound beating, some carefully administered drugs and we were on our way.”

Cynthia had a hand over her mouth and she was breathing deeply through her nose. Paul reached a hand behind him and clasped it into hers, squeezing for a moment before letting go.

“How can you do this, Richard? They didn’t deserve to die, none of them and Mitch... he’s just a kid.”

“Hm, yes, he is, isn’t he? Such a sweet one, at that. Tell me, Paul, did you fuck him while I was gone?” Paul’s breath caught in his throat and he wanted to tell Richard to shut up, but the words wouldn’t come out. “You had him to yourself for days. Did you lay him down, kiss him, undress him, whisper sweet nothings into his ear while you shoved your cock up his tight ass?”

“Stop it.” He sounded pathetic, even to himself.

“Poor Paul, but you did, didn’t you?”

He bit his tongue before forcing the answer out. “Yes.”

Cynthia gasped behind her hands and he looked at her. The surprise and disgust were there, clear and easy to read. Mitch may have told her a lot of things, but he hadn’t told her about that.

Richard laughed loudly and Paul had to gulp down the curses that he was itching to sling at the man. “I always knew you liked him. From the very first moment you laid eyes on him, I knew. In fact, you’re the reason I even noticed him at all. I’d been eyeing that dark skinned little number that was popping around the dance floor like he was on speed, but you only had eyes for Mitchell-dear. I couldn’t understand why, at first. He was scrawny and young, with big doe eyes, but there was something about him.”

Cynthia’s hands were so tightly on her face that the skin under her fingers had turned white. Paul wanted desperately to turn off the speaker, but he was afraid Richard would notice and he couldn’t give him any reason to suspect that they weren’t alone. God, was Mitch hearing this?

“The way you danced with him between us, I might as well not have been there. That and you’d never warned any of the other boys away. You’d never told me no. Maybe that’s why I wanted him so badly, because I wanted to test the limits of my control over you.”

“No.” It came out before Paul could stop it. He didn’t want to even imagine that what had happened to Mitch was his fault.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter now, does it? You were right. He is special, Paul, very, very special and now he’s going to be very special in a hole in the ground.”

Richard hung up and Paul swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat. It was all his fault. Richard was right, he had been looking at him. Not that he’d been thinking particularly lustful thoughts at the time. He’d seen him come in, staring around at everyone as if he wasn’t really sure what he was doing there. Mitch had been so cute with a refreshing openness among the throng of people doing their best to make a spectacle of themselves.

His feelings for Mitch had only grown over the last few months and maybe saying that he loved the kid wasn’t as much of a stretch as he’d thought it was. He certainly was willing to risk a lot for him.

“Paul, did you really...?”

Loaded question. Did he what - fuck him, stare at him, like him, want him? Not that it mattered, because, as always, Richard knew him better than he knew himself and the answer to all of them was, “Yes.”

Cynthia nodded and he could see her shaking with suppressed sobs. He’d get them out of this, both her and Mitch and he’d take them home and do whatever he had to make it right.

After half an hour of silence, he unclipped his phone and passed it to Cynthia, telling her to have a go at figuring out the password. More silence, interrupted by the beep of her systematically putting in numbers. He’d spent hours on the plane trying to figure out the four number combination, but he hadn’t had any patience for it and, besides, his fingers had been trembling so badly he was hitting the wrong number half the time.

Richard turned off onto a narrow, worn down road. They had to be getting near, Richard hated driving, so he wouldn’t go any further than he had to.

“Paul?” Cynthia had put the phone her knee and it was shaking. “Are we almost there?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me where we were going.”

She was silent for nearly a minute before speaking again. “I have a gun.”

He stared at her in the rear view. “You what?”

“Paul, look out!”

He got his eyes back on the road just in time to slam on his brakes and avoid rear ending Richard. They had stopped. Was this it? He looked around him. A long row of high hedges was on one side of them, the other was a dense covering of trees and the road stretched out so far in front and behind him that he couldn’t see where it ended either way. There was a little light on one of the hedges that illuminated the small patch of roadway they were on, but everything else was dark and... quiet. He cut off his engine and the only sound left was their breathing.

With his hand on the door, he watched Richard’s car, waiting for him to get out. “Cynthia, you okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Richard’s car door opened and he got out, pulling Mitch across the passenger seat and out the driver’s side. Mitch looked disoriented, clinging to Richard to help himself stand. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like maybe he was just waking up. Richard might have drugged him, then. With what, Paul couldn’t be sure, but he was relieved that Mitch probably hadn’t heard the conversation between him and Richard.

He moved to open his door, but Cynthia’s hand stayed him. “Wait, what about the gun?

Oh right, the gun. He could use it. It would certainly put him and Richard on more even ground, but if it came down to that, could he really shoot Richard, the man who had been his best friend and constant companion for more than half his life? He didn’t know, but he knew that if he couldn’t and Richard took the gun away from him, that left Cynthia utterly defenseless and he couldn’t take that risk.

“Keep it, you may need it. Stay here until you’re sure we’re a good distance from the car, then I want you to run and get help. There’s probably a house or something on the other side of those hedges. It could be pretty far back, but just get to it and have them call the police.” Without waiting for a response he got out of the car and walked to Richard, who was holding Mitch’s arm in one hand and the gun in the other. It wasn’t pointed at anyone in particular, but then it didn’t have to be.

Richard grinned at Paul and cocked his head towards the forest. “Let’s go for a little walk.”

Paul followed without a word. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, or say. He wanted to beg for Mitch’s life, but how many times had he watched Richard’s boys beg, only to be laughed at or ignored? The only thing that he knew for certain worked on Richard was cold, calm logic, but as far as that went, it wasn’t logical to let Mitch live, not if they wanted to stay out of jail.

“Richard...”

“Mouth closed, Paul. We’re almost there.”

Mitch stumbled over the uneven ground, but Richard only tightened his grip, holding him up and forcing him to continue to walk. This was insane. Richard had been his best friend, the little boy that liked to tease other people, but always stuck up for Paul. He was the teenager that had hesitantly kissed Paul in a closet their sophmore year while they were skipping class. He was the young man that had always gotten what he wanted, not because people gave it to him, but because he took it, he earned it. He was... he was a murderer and a rapist and Paul was no better than him, because he’d helped him keep those boys and he’d taken the drugs and raped them, as well. It didn’t matter that he only had vague, half recollections of it the next morning. He’d still done it.

Worse yet, he’d been completely blind to who and what Richard really was.   When had this all started? When had Richard become this, because it wasn’t something he was born with. No one was just born without basic human emotions. Why hadn’t Paul noticed the change?

He stopped and Richard stopped as well, looking back at him, annoyance clear in his sagging posture. Paul shoved his hands in his pockets, clenching his fists in frustration. “What happened to you? When did you become this _thing_?”

Richard stared at him blankly for a moment before he broke out laughing, half doubled over, but still keeping his grip on Mitch. “Oh, Paul, that’s great. That right there, that’s why I love you so much.” The idea that Richard loved him made Paul numb inside, but he stood his ground, gritting his teeth against the anger of being laughed at.   Straightening up, Richard continued to smile that naturally dazzling smile that made everyone trust him.

“The thing is, love, that I’ve always been like this.”

Paul shook his head in denial. “No way, Richard, I’ve known you since we were five. You were a nice kid.”

“Because I didn’t want to get in trouble! I remember it like it was fucking yesterday. All year, the teachers had been keeping an eagle eye on me, like they expected me to assassinate the kid next to me or something and I noticed that they never did that with you. No, with you they turned a blind eye on everything, even when you had someone else with you. So, I decided I wanted to be your friend. It took me forever to scare off your other little friends without you noticing, but it was worth it, because, you know what? I was right. With you around, no one even looked twice. Not the teachers, not the authorities. In fact, the only people who ever so much as glanced askance at me were your parents and, lucky me, your father was too afraid he’d get you in trouble, as well.”

It wasn’t possible, it just wasn’t. Paul wasn’t willing to believe that he’d let Richard play him like that, for this long. “You can’t possibly have thought all that through at five.”

“Of course not, at five I just wanted to pinch extra cookies, but it didn’t take long after that.” Paul was going to be sick. It was one thing to think he may not have noticed Richard going through a gradual change; it was another to know that he had been manipulated almost his entire life. “Remember Thomas Kippling.”

It took him a moment to understand what Richard was saying. The name was familiar, but from where? “Wait, the nerdy kid from private? The one you were always teasing?”

“Just the one!” He noticed Mitch tugging at his trapped arm, but Richard ignored the silent protest. “Remember how I left him alone after eighth grade?”

“Yeah, you said you got tired of him, that he wasn’t any fun anymore.”

Richard raised his eyebrows. “Oh, he was still fun, it’s just that I’d gotten what I wanted from him, was all. In fact, I got it several more times after that, right up until we graduated and the best thing about little Tommy was that he never told anyone.”

Paul closed his eyes and swallowed thickly. Kippling had been an annoying little shit at times, always running into people in the halls and knocking things over, but he’d never done anything to deserve that, especially not between fourteen-year-olds. Gods, that was younger than even Mitch.

When he looked up, he wished to god he had brought the gun, because, best friend or not, he would have shot Richard where he stood. It would have been a kindness. Mitch gave up trying to get his arm free as Richard shook him by it, still not even bothering to look at the boy. Richard only had eyes for Paul. It had always been that way, but how much of that was a lie?

“Did you _ever_ care about me? Or was I just convenient?” It was self-inflicted punishment to ask, because whatever the answer, it was only going to make things worse, make it hurt more.

Richard dropped Mitch’s arm finally and the boy stumbled, falling on his ass. He didn’t try to get up and run, only sat there, staring numbly at Richard’s legs.

“Paul, of course I care. If I didn’t, you’d be long gone. Actually, I rather think I love you. The very thought of you leaving makes me so fucking angry that I could kill. You looking at anyone else the way you look at me, puts me in a rage. That’s why I took him, Paul. _I_ control you, _I_ am the one you look to for everything. Not some stupid little kid who isn’t smart enough not to accept drinks from strangers.” Richard’s face had drawn tighter with every word and Paul didn’t doubt that what he said was true. Not that Paul would have called it love - obsession would have been closer to the truth.

“Let him go then, Richard. He hasn’t told anyone and he’s not going to. I’ll... I’ll never question you again. I’ll do whatever you tell me. Hell, I will personally kidnap whoever the hell strikes your fancy next, but let Mitch go.”

The anger dissolved into resolution. “No, I’m going to kill Mitch.” He ignored the whimper from the boy on the ground next to him. “I’m going to wrap my fingers around his slender little throat and I am going to choke the life out of him, but that’s not going to fix anything, is it? You’ll still think about him. You’ll pine for him. When I fuck you, you’ll be thinking about having him under you and I’m not entirely sure I can live with that. I’d rather have you dead than against me, Paul. So, make up your mind. Either you’re with me or you’re not.”

Paul stared at the gun that was leveled at him and he tried to think his way out of it, but he couldn’t come up with anything. He could rush Richard, but there was too much distance between them. He’d be dead before he got halfway. He could run, but Richard would just shoot him in the back. He couldn’t talk Richard out of this. He just prayed that Cynthia had managed to get away from here.

“I’m sorry, Richard, I can’t be with you on this.”

Richard’s expression went blank, his face relaxing into a careful mask of neutrality as he cocked the gun. “I’ll miss you, Paul.”

“No, you won’t.”

The mouth twitched upward, just a little. “Maybe not.”

He kept his eyes open. He wasn’t even sure why, except that he couldn’t take his eyes off Richard’s face, that face that he’d known for so long, that he’d memorized in love and friendship. It was twisted and contorted now and Paul hardly recognized it at all, but he couldn’t look away. Richard’s finger tightened on the trigger.

He heard a wordless cry and he thought maybe it had come from him, only it didn’t sound like him. A moment later, the back of Mitch’s head thrust itself into his view, not obscuring Richard’s face, because Mitch was too short to do that, but it eclipsed the gun, blocking the flash of it going off and Paul tore his eyes away from Richard as Mitch fell, crumpling to the ground, clutching his chest.

“Mitch!” He lunged forward and saw Richard move to train the gun on him again.

Even as he dropped to Mitch’s side, turning him over to survey the damage, he knew it wasn’t going to do any good. Paul looked back up at Richard, waiting. It felt like someone had pressed pause on the world as they stared at each other, neither moving. He didn’t even think they were breathing.

The world careened into movement as another gunshot rang out and the side of Richard’s head exploded and he collapsed to the ground, his eyes staring forward, dull and unblinking. He looked around until he found Cynthia standing a few feet away, next to a tree. She must have followed them from the car.

A chocked breath from Mitch drew his attention. Blood was spreading quickly over the boy’s shirt, just over his heart. Paul cursed as he lifted the fabric up and pressed his palm against the wound, but it kept bleeding and Mitch’s face was ashen, his usually bright eyes dulling.

“No, no, no, no.” He pressed harder onto the wound, but he could literally feel Mitch’s heart slowing to a stop.

He wasn’t aware of Cynthia until she fell on the ground next to him. “Oh, god, Mitch.”

She reached out and touched his face, but Paul knew it was already too late. The heart under his hands had stopped and the flow of blood had slowed. Mitch was dead.

“Cynthia.”

She sobbed, brushing Mitch’s hair back from his face. “Mitch, come on, talk to me, please?”

Paul grabbed her hands, heedless of the blood that he was smearing on them. “Cynthia, look at me.” She tried to pull away, but he moved to hold her face, gently, but firmly. “Cynthia, listen, you have to get Richard’s cell, okay? It’s in his car. You have to get it and you have to call the police.”

Hesitantly, she nodded and he let her go, watching her run back through woods as he took a deep breath. After a moment, he got himself together enough to carefully close the boy’s eyelids with shaking fingers

Paul took Mitch’s hand and lifted it up to press it against his lips. He was still warm. Paul stayed like that, even after the body had gone cold. He could hear Cynthia faintly, sobbing hysterically at the car and he knew that he should go to her, but he didn’t want to leave Mitch alone with Richard.

He didn’t realize he was crying until he heard the police sirens in the distance.

 

 

*****

 

 

**-Four Months Later-**

 

“Paul Gerring, you have a visitor.”

Paul looked up from the book he was reading in surprise. He wasn’t expecting anyone. His parents had been too see him just yesterday and his lawyers weren’t scheduled to come in for another few weeks at least. “Who is it?”

The guard shrugged, opening his cell door and standing aside to let him pass. “Young girl, nineteen with dark brown hair, I didn’t catch her name.”

Paul didn’t say anything else as he followed the guard through the halls. He’d been in prison for four months now and if he’d learned anything it was that you’re life was a hell of a lot easier if you got along with the guards. Of course, not that anything was ever easy. He was in on charges of rape and assisted homicide, one of the victims being only fifteen. Turned out, the inmates didn’t take kindly to child molesters. On the upside, that had gotten him his own cell.

The visitor’s room was small, with four tables lined up in a row and one chair on either side of each table. Two guards stood next to the exit door and the one that had retrieved him stood by the entrance. The room had only one other occupant, who sat at the far left table. She did indeed have dark brown hair, falling to just bellow her shoulder blades and there was something familiar about her, but with her face down, he couldn’t tell where he knew her from.

She didn’t look up until after he had sat down, but when she did, his heart leapt into his throat. “Cynthia, what are you...?”

Of all the people that had come, this was the last person he’d expected. She hadn’t said a word to him since Mitch had died. Not that he’d tried to contact her, but considering what he’d done, what he’d let happen, he figured she wouldn’t want to speak with him, anyway. With a nervous smile, she swirled a strand of hair in her fingers.

He slumped in his seat and stared fixedly at her. Brown hair. “Is that, um, your natural color?”

She nodded, “Yeah. I figured since I was going to be a mother soon, I might as well start acting like an adult.” Mother? He hadn’t forgotten she was pregnant, he’d just assumed she wouldn’t keep it, not after... well, everything. Cynthia sat back a little and put her hand on her slightly bulging stomach. “Almost five months along and going strong. I’m getting a little scared, though. It’s kind of strange that I’ll have a baby in four months, but my moms been great. She’s going to help take care of it so I can finish school and... it’ll be alright.”

He bit his lip, his gaze transfixed on her stomach until she leaned forward, covering it, still playing nervously with her hair. “How are you?”

“Why did you come here?”

She didn’t look hurt. If anything she seemed to have been expecting it and the tension in her body relaxed somewhat. “I was really mad at you, you know that? I couldn’t understand why you didn’t take the gun, or why you even let it happen in the first place, but... Did you know I dropped out of school?” He shook his head. “Yeah, well I missed so much that passing this term was going to be impossible and with the baby and everything I figured I’d just go back and repeat it next year. Anyway, I’ve had a lot of time to think and I kind of realized that what you and Richard had was a lot like me and Mitch.”

“No, Cynthia, it’s nothing like that. You two were friends, real, genuine friends.”

“You thought that with Richard, too, though, didn’t you? I’m not saying Mitch was using me, but... I’m saying that I ignored all my better instincts and trusted what he told me without thinking it through. I knew he was sneaking out to go to clubs, but I didn’t tell anyone because Mitch told me that he would be careful. When he came home, I knew what had happened, Paul, I knew everything, but Mitch said that if I told, Richard would hunt him down and no one could protect him, so I listened to him and I didn’t tell anyone. When he told me to start carrying a gun, I did it. That last night, I had told him I was going to tell his father everything, but you know I don’t think I could have, not without his consent. I would have frozen. So, yeah, maybe Mitch wasn’t intentionally manipulating me, but I get it. At least, a little. You did what Richard told you because you trusted him and he abused that trust.”

Paul laughed a little, dropped his gaze to the floor. “You sound like my lawyers. That’s their defense. I refused to deny anything, but they’re arguing that I didn’t know what I was doing, that Richard had conditioned me to do what he said since kindergarten. The sad thing is, I don’t think they’re wrong, I just hate using it as a defense for what happened.”

“I know you regret it, Paul. You regretted it before it even started.” She was right about that. He’d regretted every single boy that he let Richard get away with murdering. “I just wanted to come and tell you that.”

“How...” he choked on a lump in his throat and forced it down. “How are his parents doing?”

Cynthia cringed. “Not good. Chief Dearing resigned from the force and Mrs. Dearing rarely leaves the house. If it weren’t for Frank and me, they’d probably starve in there.”

“Frank?”

“His older brother. We’ve been taking it in turns to keep up with the chores and make sure there’s food on the table. I can’t get a job, but Frank has, and the Dearings have enough saved up to last for a while. Chief Dearing blames himself for not having figured it out sooner and I think there’s more to it, but he won’t talk about it. Not to us, anyway.”

Paul had heard quite a lot from his attorney’s, actually. He knew about the school books and about the police questioning Jeremy and he knew about the iPod. Jeremy refused to speak to him now and Paul couldn’t blame him.

“Also, I think you should know that Frank I are seeing each other.”

“You’re what?”

Cynthia chuckled. “Seeing each other. We’re not telling his parents just yet. They like me and all, but I have a baby on the way and Frank is twenty-two now, so…” She moved her hand over her stomach protectively. “I haven’t told anyone who the father is, either. They think I just got drunk and slept with some guy, which is bad, but...” not as bad as telling them you slept with their son’s rapist. “Not as bad as telling them the truth and I’m not sure I ever will.”

Paul wanted to argue with her, to tell her that she should, but he knew he was only being selfish. He wanted to be able to see the baby and her when he got out, assuming he ever got out (which, considering the extent of the charges against him, wasn’t very likely). Then there was always the fact that Paul wasn’t sure he wanted out at all. He’d thought that he would be okay without Richard, but he’d never realized the extent of his dependency. After his first meeting with his lawyers, when he kept finding himself wanting to tell them to do whatever Richard told them to, he was forced to admit that he didn’t have a clue what he was doing or how to do it. God help him, but he’d never even bought clothes without Richard standing next to him, telling him what was in season. It was unnerving at best to suddenly realize he was utterly lost and that every decision he made now was, quite literally, life or death.

They sat in silence for a while and Cynthia finally stood up, taking her purse from the floor. She looked more mature now than she had in the club. It was in the way she carried herself and perhaps even the color of her hair. It was easy to see why the guard had thought she was nineteen. Or maybe she’d used her fake ID again, because he couldn’t see the guards letting a fifteen-year-old in to speak with a known pedophile.

“Well, Frank is waiting outside for me.”

Paul stood up, as well, forcing himself to speak past the tightness in his chest. “I really am sorry, Cynthia.”

“I know.”

“I did... I loved him. Mitch, I mean.”

Her smile softened and she nodded. “I know. He loved you, too, Paul. When… if you get out, call me.”

He didn’t do anything to stop her as she walked away, letting the guard check her purse, but in the doorway and turned around, her eyes glinted with unshed tears. “It’s a girl, by the way, in case you were wondering.”

She left before he could say anything and he sat there for several minutes, struck by what she’d said. A girl. He had a daughter, or he would. Slowly, he smiled and let the guard lead him back to his cell.

His lawyers had said that there was a good chance his sentence would be commuted. They said that if things went their way, he’d be in a mental hospital for a few years and then he’d be free. Up until today, that had seemed like a worse case scenario. He’d thought he deserved the punishment and, besides, what did he have to look forward to? His brother hated him, his parents were wary of him, even if they still came to see him. The only friends he’d had were with Richard and they were all in jail. Jessie was looking at the Death Penalty, Tanner was almost guaranteed life imprisonment, and Louis and Mickey weren’t fairing any better. If he got out, he’d be alone and Paul had never been alone. Just thinking about it terrified him.

Now... well, maybe he wouldn’t be as alone as he’d thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and let the hate mail commence. 
> 
> As I said in the beginning, I originally wrote and posted this in 2006, so I ask that, while I know you’re upset, take a moment and try to be original. I’m well aware that I’m a heartless bastard, but those words are trite and overused. Calling me a cum-sucking douche nozzle is much more satisfying to both the angry reader and myself. Just saying.
> 
> All kidding aside, thank you for reading. Thank you to those who took the time to comment or kudo. Thank you to those who encouraged me to re-post it here and are brave enough to read it a second time, knowing full well what's coming. This entire thing was a recurring dream that I’d had for as long as I could remember and to be fair, I actually toned it down quite a bit while writing it. Getting this out on ‘paper’ and knowing people actually read and enjoyed it, even if they hated me for it afterwards, helped me more then I can put into words.
> 
> In the next few months, I’ll be posting another original that was written in 2005, but never posted anywhere. It’s a much lighter read with horny young men, a little angst, and quite a bit of something bordering on fluff. It even has a happy ending for anyone who currently wishing you could beat me with a two by four.


End file.
